Amethyst

[Lightning_Count]

I've been prety quiet lately on the posting front, but fear not, I haven't forgot my responsibilities to the good readers of this board

I've been working on an original novel, and I intend to finish it before posting here, probably early next year.

Here is a very brief preview of what i have so far, it is set in the not too distant future within the Sol system. No FTL, no super weapons, no aliens. Just mankind, greed, and massed fleets of starships preparing for a war between the US and China...




The following day was going quite slowly, April taking her time with the cargo manifest, stretching the job out to consume as much time as possible. Like the crew she was settled into routine, adhering to a schedule designed to try and keep her busy within the tiny ecosystem enclosed in metal far from home. She was holding up well, but they weren’t even a quarter of the way through their journey yet.
She was seriously contemplating taking a little nap at her desk when suddenly the sharp exultation of a horn made her almost spring from her chair and drop to the floor.
“Stand by actions stations! Set Condition One! Action Stations!”
She clearly recognised the First Officer’s voice on the ship wide speakers, and before she even finished there was scuffling in the corridors as off duty personnel dragged on their pressure suits and ran for their assigned stations, either backing up duty personnel or standing by in damage control parties.
April quickly recovered and calmed herself, not doing a very good job as the emergency sirens still bellowed. Her heart was racing and breath evacuating in short shallow gulps. It could have been a drill but she doubted it, everyone was already on edge travelling so close to a potential warzone and something about this situation felt real. She really did not want to end up in a fight, but there was no way out, no escape.
She forced her breathing to steady, taking control of the situation. She had been told what to do in an emergency and all that information flooded back. She opened the wardrobe and took out her pressure suit, slipping on the heavy one piece overall and zipping it up, sealing over the flaps and tightening the straps to create a snug fit. She didn’t bother with the hood yet, the idea being you only pulled it on when something exceptionally bad was about to happen.
“April!” Pete arrived at her door, also in emergency gear. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” She said plainly, finishing off her suit.
“We better get to the pods.”
“Pods?” April asked. “Escape pods?”
“Yeah, remember, we were told that in an emergency we should stay in the pods.” He returned. “Safest place.”
“Fine, you go, I’m heading to the Conn.”
“Right…what?”
“I didn’t travel fifty billion miles just to go and hide, we’re here to find out what is happening, so I’m going to take a look.” She said firmly. “Coming?”
“Can I say no?”
“That’s the spirit. Come on.”

They headed for the Conn, using the stairs and passing by a pair of damage control teams waiting for orders. Not only did they have heavier protective gear they were also armed with side arms and rifles just in case anyone tried to board the ship. With no Marines on board the crew would have to fend for themselves in such an emergency, though fortunately they were well trained and prepared.
The Conn was more active then usual, several of the normally dormant holographic displays had blazed to life showing various sensor returns from around the ship. It was hard for an untrained eye to make sense of it but the crew seemed to understand the meaning.
“You two!”
The reporters paused but remained calm, April holding her ground.
“I thought I told you to run and hide in emergencies?” Jane snapped. “What are you doing here?”
“This is why we came!” April returned. “To see everything out here, good and bad!”
“Let them stay.” Mallory interrupted. “Find me that profile.”
“Aye sir.” Jane turned away with a final hard glance, then set to work calling up data in the ship’s library.
“You can stay, but keep out of our way.” The Commander directed at the two reporters. “Sit in those chairs, say nothing and don’t move. Clear?”
“Got it.” April grinned in triumph. “You won’t know we’re even here.”
Mallory was already ignoring them. “Kill those alarms, everyone knows by now.”
The sound ceased, dropping to just a murmur of voices.
“Even Kendle should be awake after that.”
He turned back to the navigation console, now showing two areas highlighted in red.
“Are we sure it was a distress signal?”
“Yes sir.” Lieutenant Thomas confirmed. “We only got a few words, but they translated as ‘under attack’ before we lost the rest.”
“Anything from the location sensors?”
“Heavy ECM sir.” Michelle Cheyo answered. “It’s blocking our sensors.”
“And our new friend?”
“Jamming us, we can’t get a positive ID.” She continued. “But she’s big sir, lot bigger than us.”

April was lost, picking up pieces of information but not the full picture. She noticed an officer walk up beside her, the same man who shared Pete’s quarters and decided to ask.
“Hey, what happened?”
He hesitated a moment, but chose to answer.
“We just picked up two ECM bursts, very unusual out here.”
“ECM?”
“Electronic Counter Measures.” He clarified. “They jam sensors and communications. Most warships use them to mask their exact identity, but these readings were off the scale.”
“What causes them?”
“Normally people trying to hide something, one is in the middle of an asteroid cluster, on top of a Chinese mining station.”
“The one we were going to take a look at for the Net report?”
“Yes, and the other is coming from a ship heading our way.”
She swallowed. “It’s heading for us?”
“Mr Cross!” Mallory cut in. “Weapons status?”
The officer at once turned away. “Rail guns armed and ready sir, point defences active, targeting systems on stand by.”
“Bring our own ECM online, no chances.”
“Yes sir, shall I rig for silent running?”
“No, bit late now.” Mallory shook his head. “That second contact came out of nowhere, must have been running silent for weeks to avoid our sweeps.” He frowned in annoyance. “I hate surprises, have we got an ID yet?”
“Negative sir, sensors are jammed and he’s running with spotlights on full, we can’t get a visual over the glare.”
“Not until we’re right on top of him.” Jane growled.

“Commander, we just crossed into Chinese territory.” Lieutenant Fisher informed from navigation.
“Mr Thomas, all frequency broadcast.” Mallory began. “We are responding to a distress signal, we are not hostile, I repeat, not hostile. Keep repeating that message.”
“Risky sir.” Jane spoke quietly. “They can use our comms to triangulate our position.”
“I know, but it takes away any excuses they might want for accidentally blowing us away.” He turned to sensors. “Range?”
“One light second and closing steady.”
“Well within firing distance.” Jane commented. “No active scans, no targeting.”
Fisher checked her board then looked up. “He’s going to come close sir, if he holds course he’ll pass within five kilometres.”
“Close enough to check our tonsils.” Jane grunted. “Cocky bastard.”
“Still no targeting sir.” Cheyo informed.
“At this range he can aim down the gun sights, he doesn’t need a lock.” Mallory grimaced. “Mr Cross, load the guns.”
“Yes sir.”
“And Mr Cross.” Mallory turned to look at the weapons officer. “Make sure A turret is armed with tac-nukes.”
The Lieutenant set his jaw, a muscle in his cheek twitching at the command. “Understood sir.”
Mallory turned back to the plotting table. “Ship that big could flatten us, but if he’s dumb enough to try anything this close we’ll jam fifty kilotons down his neck and see how he likes it.”
“Half a light second!” Cheyo warned. “We’re starting to get resolution, the glare is fading.”
“Guns ready!” Cross called. “Shall I bring targeting online?”
“Not just yet.” Mallory said. “Standby.”
“No response to signals sir.” Thomas relayed.
“Stand ready people.” Mallory announced calmly, deliberately modulating his voice to enforce control. “Nobody blink.”

Everything went utterly silent, all eyes fixed on the monitors or holographs, all muscles tensed and ready to explode into action, all thoughts held firmly and ready to be acted on. The ship was poised, contracted like a coiled spring straining to be released in a burst of motion and energy. The unknown ship was right on top of them, it’s potent sensors still blinding them right until the last second.
“I’ve got visual!” Cheyo hollered.
“Is he aiming at us?” Mallory barked. “Is he pointing weapons at us?”
“Negative, negative!” She shot back “His weapons are secured, no missile tubes detected.”
The entire room exhaled at once, the tension unwinding slowly in a mix of relief and anger.
“Stupid fucking bastard.” Mallory shook his head. “That dick almost got a nuke sandwich.”
“She’s not a warship.” Jane ran an image through the database. “Checking civilian matches…oh great.”
“Let me guess.” Mallory straightened. “Merc?”
“Hull form is a medium ore hauler.” Jane nodded. “Merc.”
“No Naval Captain would pull something that dumb.”
“Even better, she’s American.” Jane raised, conscious of the reporters. “In Chinese space.”
“Let me see her.”
The plotting table projected an image of the ship, bulky but extremely menacing.
“Fuck me, look at those guns!” Jane exclaimed. “Sorry sir.”
“Right with you.” Mallory spoke grimly. “Those are Eight inch guns, heavy cruiser firepower.”
“Even a glancing hit would snap us in two like a twig.” Jane shook her head. “Where the hell did those come from?”
“Take a wild guess.” The Commander sneered. “Jake, open a channel to that shite.”

The Comms officer nodded.
“Mercenary vessel, this is the EU warship Amethyst, you are carrying illegal weapons and travelling without a valid flight plan. Respond.”
“Nothing sir.” Lieutenant Thomas stated.
“You have also failed to display your registry, broken international conventions on harmful electronic emissions and violated safety regulations regarding minimum safe distance between ships in motion.”
He glanced at Jake Thomas, who just shook his head.
“Your identity is being relayed to the authorities, you will surrender to the first United States government representative you come across. If you enter EU space you will be arrested and your ship confiscated. If you resist you will be destroyed. Amethyst out.”
The signal ended.
“And good bloody riddance.”
April stood up. “Wait, that’s it?”
“That’s it.” Mallory nodded. “We don’t have authority here, its Chinese space. We can’t arrest them until they cross into EU territory, which they won’t.”
“He scared the shit out of me!” April wailed. “And he’s getting away with it?”
“The only people who can do anything are the US or Chinese governments.” Mallory said. “The Chinese would probably shoot him down on the spot, the US government ignores them.”
The reporter sighed. “We heard about that.”
“Now you’ve seen it.” The Commander turned to the plot. “And you filmed it, right?”
“Right.” Pete answered.
“Well then, I suppose now the world will know, wont it?”
She broke into a smile. “Damn straight they will.”
“About time.” Mallory agreed with the sentiment. “What about that second contact? Anything?”
“Still jammed, and the asteroid cluster is blocking our visual.” Cheyo called.
“Time to contact helm?”
“Three hours at this speed sir.”
“Increase to five G’s acceleration.” Mallory ordered.
“Going to push the generators a bit.” Jane warned.
“If the distress signal was from that mining base there could be people trapped or in danger.” The Commander said. “Bugger the generators, increase speed.”
“Yes sir.”
“And Mr Thomas, let Oceanic traffic control know they’ve got an illegally armed Merc on their border. If he crosses over they can throw the book at him.”
Jane smiled coldly. “Preferably attached to a nuclear warhead.”

[sharpe]

I take it you never played Starlancer?

[Lightning_Count]

Originally Posted by sharpe

I take it you never played Starlancer?

People keep telling me I should and I-war

My inspiration for this is mainly World War One, and if all goes well this could branch into a multi volume tale larger than the Dilgar fic

[kingdragon]

Don't do that. You haven't finished Chronicles of the Crusade yet!

[Lightning_Count]

Originally Posted by kingdragon

Don't do that. You haven't finished Chronicles of the Crusade yet!

lol!

You'll be pleased to hear I've been working on the book two finale

[TREK2007_2008]

good to hear it is a good story i thought it was abandoned

[katar8010]

very nice, hope to see more soon

[kingdragon]

Originally Posted by Lightning_Count

lol!

You'll be pleased to hear I've been working on the book two finale

Fuk yeah!

wait..., book 2 of what, six?

[Flying J]

So you posted it? Hooray!!!


This story is made of win!

[Lightning_Count]

The whole fic is about 85k words right now, and I estimate it is about three quarters done.
Lots more to see and do, but I wanted to assure people I hadn't vanished into thin air

[Zcenicx]

Really great work, reminds me a lot of one of my own original fics I abandoned some time ago, called Vae Victis.

Starlancer/Freelancer type setting there too, though I used the Napoleonic Wars as a theme rather than WW1/2.
I'll probably resume it some day, considering what made me drop it was the TF43 crossover story

[Chuut-Riit]

Thank the Emperor.
This is a nice start. And it's good to hear the work on CotC is still going.

[Spartan303]

Originally Posted by kingdragon

Fuk yeah!

wait..., book 2 of what, six?

Four books planned. Two of which will be finished soon. Book 1 'The Gateway' is already finished.

[Glennfiddich12]

Very interesting LC. You've got my curiosity piqued.

[kingdragon]

Originally Posted by Spartan303

Four books planned. Two of which will be finished soon. Book 1 'The Gateway' is already finished.

'Cackles madly while rubbing hands with glee'

'recomposes self'

Continue, and may your muse be set free. Or injected with caffeine. Whatever works.

[jpdt19]

We're just lucky his other half is sympathetic and they have a good arrangement worked out that allows him to write.

Oh and Excellent New story LC

Very good teaser

[Lightning_Count]

Yes, an arrangement which involves me bribing her with fancy perfume and goodies The sacrifices I make for my art


I've been working on this story on and off for two years, lot of background and development involved and only recently has it actually begun to look like a novel

All being well I'll present it in the New Year, maybe a bigger preview for Christmas

[Lightning_Count]

Because I'm feeling generous, this is what I'm currently working on for Chronicles....



“Snake squad, reading gliders entering the kill zone.”
“Roger that, break and attack, good hunting.”
With a flick of his wrist Major Castle twisted the agile F-302-C interceptor into a tight spiral turn, pivoting on a wing tip and lining up on a mass of incoming enemy aircraft. He didn’t need to check his scopes to know the rest of his unit was in combat formation around him, slotting in loosely to maintain some flexibility.
“Heads up Snakes, we are weapons free.” He announced. “Burn through these guys and disrupt Al’Kesh formation at two O’clock low.”
His battle computer was already updating, hundreds of labelled tags showing the massive concentration of enemy forces in the system.
“We’ll make it quick, then drop on the planet, leave the Jarheads to cover Big Daddy.” He referred to the Daedalus’ second squadron, VMA 405 manned by the US Marine corps. Both units flew the latest products of the US aviation industry, the C model of the boomerang winged 302 incorporating ion engines and pulse cannons from the tech exchange with Earth Force. It offered a major boost to the endurance of the tiny craft while sacrificing none of the agility and speed they had become famous for. The new models were already being referred to as ‘Firebirds’ by their crews, and not without cause.
“We got a lot more on the way boss, at least three glider squads vectoring in.” Lieutenant Ferris checked in from the squadron flank.
“Ignore them, stay on our assigned targets.” Castle replied. “Go hot, lets feed these guys space-raams.”

The targeting radars on the fighter jets went hot, painting the incoming gliders with invisible radiation from hundreds of miles out. If the Jaffa pilots opposite them knew what was happening they didn’t show it.
“Hard lock, Snake One, Fox three!”
One of the missiles dropped from a bay in the wings, serrated doors snapping open momentarily to drop the ordnance before slamming shut again. It streaked forward joined by a dozen others, weaving as it acquired its target and rammed a glider head on, immolating its fuselage and leaving its two curved wings to spin harmlessly into the void.
“Break, break, break!”
The squadron immediately dissolved, fading into three units of four as the Jaffa returned fire, vast waves of orange particle bolts tracking the nimble fighters. The gliders were fast, but the 302’s were faster and the new versions could literally turn on a dime. The allowed the gliders to close before back flipping and changing course, diving on the enemy craft and falling in behind them.
“Engage with guns, save your missiles!” Castle called. “Come on tattoo boy, try me.”
His jet roared into position, the enemy glider he had chosen rolling and pulling away but to little avail. This sort of combat was a little unfamiliar to the pilots, in an era where missiles had dominated battle getting into gun fights had been a skill which needed a little polish, especially with the physics of space. Most pilots had spent a month at the Earth Force version of Top Gun learning the tricks of zero gravity combat before transferring to an operational SGC squadron, combining the skills of both organisations to become truly formidable.
He only needed one burst of fire to prove his point.

“Snake One, check six!”
At once Castle pulled hard up, flipping his fighter into an Immelman turn and avoid a pair of Goa’uld energy bursts. Two fighters were streaking past now in the wrong direction, and with a sharp twist that tested the inertial dampeners he spiralled in behind one, turning it to hot scraps with his blue pulse cannons. The second fighter didn’t last much longer, his wingman blasting off one of its wings sending it into an eternal death spin.
“Reform on me!” Castle called sharply. “Main target is still the Al’Kesh, hustle it ladies!”
the fighters didn’t take long to form up, magnetic vanes angling their ion trails and looping the craft back on course, the surviving gliders too far away now to be an immediate threat. Of more concern were ten Al’Kesh corvettes, the bulbous craft climbing up to engage the Daedalus.
“We’ll slot in and gun them down.” Castle said. “Like those old World War Two movies, just watch their turrets and stay above their tails.”
The Al’Kesh shot across the front of the squadron, the grey fighters turning hard to follow them, catching up quickly. Far ahead they could see the Daedalus hard at work, dancing between a pair of Hat’aks spitting a massive volume of fire, beams and pulses ripping through shields and armour. The space between the three vessels was hellish, flashes of burning light and excavated metal rolling listlessly in the void. One Hat’ak was burning furiously with blackened decks exposed to space, the other was marginally healthier, but both still fired on the twisting, weaving warship.

In range.” Castle chirped. “Firing.”
The pulse cannons spat again, splattering like water on the Al’Kesh shields. The bulky craft dodged a little and fired back, though their badly directed fire was virtually useless against the agile fighters. It took several hits before the shields flared out and the cannons were able to gouge deep into the broad back of the attack ship.
Debris fluttered away like foil, each hit pounding holes that spouted flame and often streams of plasma, cutting power lines and drive systems. Castle’s target spluttered and began to roll out of control but he stayed on it, filling more of its body with holes. After a few more seconds it ripped itself apart, Castle rolling away to avoid a collision with debris.
The rest of his squad was equally effective, with at least one attacking head on and flipping itself over the targeted Al’Kesh in a classic Starfury tactic, holding its guns on target the whole time and smashing through the spine of the vessel with riotous effect. The ten attackers, bereft of cover, stood little chance but in the time it took to kill them an entirely different unit of Al’Kesh had gathered on the far side of the battle zone and was pushing on the Earth cruiser.
“Sir, more targets.” Ferris called.
“I see them, but they’re outside our engagement zone.”
“Yes sir.”
“Leave them for the Jarheads, we have to get on with our own mission. Reform on me.” He twisted the controls, the planet Abraxis rising to fill his canopy. “Gliders in front of the target, lets kick open the door and make sure it smacks them in the face.”



...about time we got back tot he task of kicking alien arse

[wellis]

Will we get to see Ba'al in this new chapter of Chronicles? Also what's the difference between the 302 B version and the 302 C version? Finally, I know you mentioned in your Amethyst story that there is no FTL travel, but will we see FTL travel in a sequel to that story? Or will humanity always be confined to STL travel?

[sharpe]

has a real dogfight feel to it. Can't wait to read the rest LC

[Lightning_Count]

Originally Posted by wellis

Will we get to see Ba'al in this new chapter of Chronicles? Also what's the difference between the 302 B version and the 302 C version? Finally, I know you mentioned in your Amethyst story that there is no FTL travel, but will we see FTL travel in a sequel to that story? Or will humanity always be confined to STL travel?

In order...

Yes, Ba'al is the key player in the final three or four chapters of this Book

The 302B is basically the twin seat version of the 302A used for training, EW missions and precision bombing. The 302C incorporates EA tech, and there is also a 302D version which is a twin seater with EA tech.
Might see a 302E by the end of the fic, but I can't go into details on that crafts abilities

In AMethyst, for this era its STL but I'm sure any future sequels will include FTL and aliens. Probably. If I get that far

[Conflict-solver]

Very intrigued on the new work, and looking forward to yet another great work by you count, and great news about Chronicles.

From reading i gather that Earth ships can generate gravity (For Amethyst).

Keep up the great work.

[Lightning_Count]

I think the time has come to start posting this fic, a lot of it is already written but needs to be cleaned up. Also posting it in the archive for a story only thread.



Amethyst


1


So what is the best way to describe space? Bleak, desolate maybe? Intractable sounds impressive and the sort of word that makes people wonder. Hollow, devoid, unfathomable.
“For heavens sake, just say ‘big’ and move on!”
April Conroy shot an icy look across the plastic veneered top of the table she was hunched over, her data pad painting a pale blue sheen over her classically attractive and intensively maintained features.
“Well thanks Pete, that’ll really capture the imaginations of the readers.”
Opposite her Peter Muller held his dimly amused expression. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, it’s only an introduction.”
“You grab a reader within one paragraph.” She said in chastisement. “I need it right or nobody will bother reading the rest of the story. So be helpful or be quiet.”
“My advice,” he shrugged. “Look out the window.”

Reluctantly April heeded his words, glancing to the clear oval window on her left and the reachless dark beyond. It was such a flimsy barrier holding space outside, or more accurately keeping the breathable atmosphere of the Clipper in. When she took the time to examine it the reality of how mankind had not only expanded into this far realm, but how to a great extent he had actually conquered it made her feel quite tiny.
Reclining in her business class seat with a Martini on the table in front of her and a surprisingly delicious Spaceline meal working through her stomach April felt amazingly relaxed even though she was literally inches from death. It was so normal, such an unremarkable part of modern life commuting through Space didn’t really mean much anymore.

Her eyes lazily skipped from distant star to distant star until finally she settled her gaze and the matt red orb they had been heading towards for the last week. The surface of Mars seemed to rise as the Clipper rolled on its long axis, the dark patches of cold deserts mottling the surface in the same way the green and yellow continents of Earth did the same thing.
There was a chime in the cabin as the internal speakers activated.
“Ladies and Gentlemen this is your Captain. We are entering Mars orbit and will be docking at Ares Station within fifteen minutes. On behalf of United Spacelines I’d like to thank you for travelling with us and hope to see you all again soon.”

“Nice of him.” Pete remarked.
“You know he’s just reading a script.”
“Well we’re here on time, and that lunch was pretty good for a Clipper flight.”
April had to agree with that, Clippers were fairly small craft carrying a thousand or so passengers relatively short distances. In this case the United Clipper April and Pete were onboard was the final changeover on a two week long journey from Earth. The bulk of the journey had been undertaken on a vast relatively luxurious Liner weighing in at a hefty five million tons. Ships like her were becoming more and more common as the shipping companies found the deep range space travel market continuing to expand in the Twenty Second century.
The larger ship had unloaded the passengers destined for Mars onto the Clipper, picked up a few more from the Red planet, then continued on its journey all the way out to Jupiter for a sight seeing cruise of the mighty world.

“What time is it now?” April’s mind sorted through the day’s itinerary.
“Ten to Eleven.” Pete replied. “Which means we can get lunch before the first interview of the day.”
April laughed mildly. “This had better be worth it, we’re taking a long time out on this one.”
“Well you put in the effort, you get the reward.” Her companion said with a smile. “You never know, this could be that Pulitzer you get all misty eyed about.”
April answered with a huff. “Carlos just wants me as far away from him as possible after that thing with the Senator and the call girl.”
“Aww come on, what gave you that idea?” Pete jokingly taunted. “Just because we boldly go where no news team has ever gone before…”
“You make it sound like an adventure.” The woman remarked absently. “This is a punishment.”
“So all the better chance to show them exactly what you are made of.”

April Conroy was a net reporter for the prestigious New York Times, one of an up and coming new breed of reporters who hearkened back to the old image of hard nosed News Paper men and women doggedly hunting down stories.
In recent years the news had become bland and full of opinionated and overly smug reporters and editors who simply pursued their own agendas. It was rare just to have facts presented and more often than not the populace was presented a biased opinion presented as fact. Across Earth and its holdings there was a steady undercurrent of dissatisfaction with this state of affairs, something April had tapped into.

Her very second story for the New York Times had been a world wide break, the uncovering of a scandal involving a highly placed United States Senator and a Call Girl who it turned out had some connections to the Chinese embassy.
It had shot April to global fame and gained her a healthy measure of respect in her industry and with the public in general, however her Editor Carlos Rodriguez was less impressed. The owners of the New York Times were major contributors to the Senators election campaign and were sympathetic to his policies. After the scandal the Senator was forced to immediately resign and submit to Federal investigation meaning any hope of him achieving higher office was dashed.
This meant the News paper owners had wasted millions of dollars supporting this man, and held Janet personally responsible. Something her Editor expressed in not so subtle terms.
That, she concluded, was why she was going to be sent on a two months or more round trip to Saturn and beyond. She was livid.
To add insult to injury it wasn’t even going to be on an American ship.

“I still say they are doing this to us on purpose.” She grunted unhappily.
“Course they are, so enjoy it and that’ll really piss them off.”
She shrugged. “So why the Brits?”
“Huh?”
“Why are we doing a story on the British Navy?”
“Well first it’s Royal Navy, not British Navy.” Pete corrected. “Get that right or you’ll be walking back to Earth.”
“Fine, so why the Royal Navy?”
“Because there’s a public interest in it.” Her companion said simply. Pete was both her producer and recorder, the man responsible for providing her the medium to get her story across to whoever cared to read it. Usually that involved a video recorder, a palm sized device able to record holographic images and their associated sounds for download to the Sol-net, the twenty second century’s evolution if the old internet.
Sol-net had more or less replaced the old forms of media combining television, cinema, libraries, news agencies and the internet into one multipurpose portal available across the solar system, though owing to the distances there could sometimes be a hell of a time lag.
The man who had invented the high capacity data feeds that enabled the network to be created had become the richest man in human history, until he was murdered by one of his jealous children.

“Why is the American public interested in the British… Royal Navy?”
“Because it represents a large and uncommitted space fleet as part of the European Union, and the American public would like to know where they stand.”
“You mean with us or China?”
“Yeah, though I’d guess in the neutral ground in the middle like nearly everyone else.”
The developing competition between China and the United States was the principle subject of almost every news story for the last decade. Some called it scare mongering or sensationalising a mediocre situation, but every time someone decried it there was still that undercurrent of a threat.
America had been an early proponent of space expansion and one of the original ‘Big Three’ space players with Russia and the Europe Union. To that club China and India eventually joined, along with Japan and after a time South East Asia in general.
While most people considered space big enough for everyone China and America had often tried claiming each other’s territory resulting in some near misses as warships occasionally faced off and forced one side or the other to back down.
The situation in April’s view was getting more and more tense, and she like everyone else wanted to know where the rest of the world stood.

That place was on the fence, with India, Russia and the rest firmly neutral. The only real support for America came from Japan within Oceania, and that was mostly because they had the world’s biggest army and air force right in their back yard.

The shadows streaming from the windows shifted as the Clipper rotated, rolling on its axis as it made its approach to the main civilian station over Mars, the multinational Ares facility. As it did so the blackness beyond turned rusty red, the curve of the Red Planet rising majestically into view beside them.
“Not a sight you see everyday.” Pete spoke with genuine awe. “We’ve had people down there for a century, but it’s still something unbelievable. Chills me just thinking about it.”
She quickly typed down a few points. “Not bad, I think I can use that.”
“That was me speaking from the heart.” Pete said with a sideways glance.
“That’s what will make it so good to open with.” April said plainly. “Are we there yet?”
“Sweeping in now, plenty of traffic today.”
April looked briefly out and saw a few other ships, sleek passenger vessels sharing airspace with lumbering dirty coloured mining vessels. The great freighters weren’t pleasing to the eye, ugly industrial ships built for efficiency and not aesthetics, yet they carried in their bulbous bellies the lifeblood of the modern world, the raw materials and fuels crucial to the sustenance of society.
She paid them little attention, but Pete drew her eyes to one in particular.
“Look at that one, there.”

She followed his indication, catching sight of a particularly large and grotesque vessel with cargo pods bursting from its hull like parasites.
“What about it?”
“She’s Chinese.” Pete said. “And look at her flanks, she’s taken hits from something.”
April was having a hard time picking out the signs of deliberate abuse on the unlovely ship. “Really?”
“Yeah, laser hits.” He said. “Some missiles too. Our buddies in Paris ran a story about merchant ships getting hit by Mercs, a lot of them working for US companies.” He grunted. “Eliminating the competition.”
“I thought that was the Chinese doing that, taking out US ships?”
“Maybe both countries are neck deep in it, do you trust our own Mega-corps?”
“We’ve run enough stories on corruption and greed, wouldn’t surprise me at all.”
Pete nodded. “Looking out there I’d say it was for real. Just be glad Ares is still a free port, I wouldn’t want to travel through Chinese space in an American ship right now.”
“Amen to that.”

Ares station was vast, an old orbital station that had grown exponentially over decades. It had started as a ring shaped station with a two hundred metre diameter spinning to simulate gravity. When artificial gravity was cracked motion was no longer required to simulate an Earth like environment and the station was stopped, becoming the fixed heart of a titanic network of docking bays, loading piers, lounges, promenades, shops, massive arrays of sensors and communication antennas and even a few research labs
At last count its maze of facilities sprawled over twenty miles in each direction from the core, thin slabs of metal and latticework glinting in the reflected light of the Martian surface. Within its steel arms thousands of people lived and worked, most were from Mars but plenty had come from the nations of Earth. It was no secret tensions were growing at home, and those tensions were reflected in growing outbursts and petty violence within the station itself. The administration tried to keep it neutral ground, but it wasn’t working.



The white clipper ship curled gently into its docking area, two rectangular prongs jutting from the spider web of Ares, stubby fingers lined with airlocks, tension cables and boarding tubes poised and eager to ensnare the passenger vessel and drain the tourists from its body. She was a graceful vessel, practical but also designed to be aesthetically pleasing. The deep space cruise industry was a deceptively cut throat business, a reality which would seem out of place considering their services. To April’s mind it was like a gang of effeminate hairdressers trying to slaughter each other with curling irons and bottles of Frizz-ease. Yet for all their fluffy appearances, cheesy entertainers and artistic looking ships the companies behind the enterprises were some of the largest mega corporations in existence and seized every possible advantage in the struggle for more cash. One such advantage was to have a ship which looked sexy on a holo vid.
The ship moved easily between the docking pylons, articulated armatures extending to grasp coupling points on the cruise ship as the gravity drives pushed against the station like a cushion gradually reducing resistance like an athlete swimming in treacle. With barely a single shudder the Clipper came to a halt and was successfully snared by the stations robotic embrace.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain. Once again thank you for travelling with United Spaceways and we hope you enjoyed your voyage. Please disembark from the starboard, that is right side, airlocks and proceed along the designated customs channels into the station itself. For those travelling on to the Reagan Mid-point complex or Jupiter we will be departing at Nine tomorrow morning giving you a whole evening to enjoy the cosmopolitan delights of this orbital metropolis. Please have a pleasant stay.”
“Very accommodating kind of guy ain’t he?” Pete began to gather his things. “He must have been doing it for a while, I could barely tell he was reading a script.”
“Another wannabe news caster.” April rolled her eyes, glaring at the wall of dull metal now dominating the view from her window. Her eye picked out imperfections, uneven surfaces, scorch marks from retro thrusters fired too close by some previous occupant of the alcove. None of it was even remotely interesting to her.
“We’ve got a little time before we meet our first interview, want a drink?”
She raised her eyes to her companion with a mildly accusing stare.
Pete broke into a wide knowing grin. “Not that sort of a drink, just as friends.”
“In that case, yeah.”
“We’ve spent so long together we’re like a married couple anyway.” The man beamed. “Only reason I haven’t dumped you is because I get paid too well.”
“And only reason I haven’t fired you is that you make me look good on Camera.” She retorted. “You’re too cheerful.”
“And you’re too whiny.” Pete responded by rote. “Jack Dee?”
“Make it a Cognac.” She pushed herself out of her seat. “I’ll need it, I’d forgotten how boring space is.”

The two news crew members gathered their bags and headed for the airlock, having packed earlier in the day they didn’t bother returning to their cabin and beat a swift retreat to the exits. They strode down the thick carpet leading to the airlock, once again soaking up the sumptuous décor and extravagance lavished on the ship. For those stepping aboard it was a grand first impression that physically inflicted awe on the impressionable and pandered the egos of the new upper classes who imagined they deserved such finery. At its root it was of course just one more marketing strategy. So was the steward who bade them farewell, thanking them yet again for choosing to fly with United Spaceways, a subsidiary of Errol Corp.
Pete politely gave him a smile and a tip while April just mumbled something unintelligible, caught up in her own growing rain cloud of annoyance with lightning flashes of anger. She was being punished for doing her job, which was both wrong and unfair on a level of cosmic proportions. The amount of work, good fortune and clever investigation she had put in was far more than any other reporter would bother with, her colleagues were too lazy for their own good and made a living taking whatever piece of crap crossed their path and then blowing it up to make a story. It wasn’t journalism, it was sensationalism, and most of it was utter rubbish. Of course provided the reporters used the words ‘Allegedly’ or ‘According to sources’ nothing ever came of it. The industry was a farce, and April wasn’t having it. Unfortunately no good deed goes unpunished.
The lush red flooring of the Clipper transformed into flat non slip fabric as they left the warmly lit ship and entered the neon glow of the boarding tube. The long snaking tunnel stretched a hundred yards from station to ship secured at both ends very tightly. Never the less a lot of people found it the worst part of any journey, the closest they would ever come to the harsh vacuum of space itself. Fears of the tunnel breaching, or the clamping seals splitting was quite common especially among the older generation, not helped by several of April’s fellow journalists massively over hyping the risks to draw in ratings. She was so lost in her own world of accusations and recriminations she barely noticed, stepping onto the station before she even knew she was off the ship.

“Good Morning Madam.” A cheery middle aged man offered enthusiastically. “Welcome to Ares Station, and good morning to you also sir.”
“Good to be here.” Pete returned happily, a sentiment April wasn’t about to echo.
“Can I ask you to step through the scanner please, this will only take a minute.”
The man wore the uniform of the European Coast Guard with responsibility for handling customs and excise duties across European sovereign territory. While technically not a coast the station was European property and was classified in much the same way as any city back on Earth or any planetary colony. The Coast Guard also provided officers at air and seaports continent wide as well as the grand space ports like this one, operating with local Police Forces to handle security and detect any law breakers trying to peddle their way into the EU.
Pete went first, walking up to an archway and stepping through, bags in hand before waiting on the other side. The Customs officer checked a small security monitor beside the arch with a keen stare before nodding in apparent approval.
“And you Madam?”
April followed suit, walking through with a mild slouch like a sulky teenager before halting beside Pete.
“Excellent, the scans show you have no contraband or dangerous items.” He said with the fervour of a game show host awarding a prize. “It also confirms your biometric data, your hotel has been informed of your arrival and you have six messages waiting for you at the front desk.”
“Oh. Great.” April grunted moodily. “Our Editor doing his job. ‘Are you there yet? Did you get the interview? Don’t miss the ship!’ Bastard weasel man.”
“So we’ll be going now.” Pete forced a smile, steering April away and pointing her down the docking arm toward the station itself.
“One moment, one of the messages is flagged.” The officer called after them. “From an Admiral Bradford, he confirms your meeting at fourteen hundred hours.”
“Can you acknowledge that for us? We’ll be there!” Pete replied as he pushed April with one hand and dragged his case with the other. “Thanks!”
“Enjoy your stay!” The Customs man added with the same smile.
“Thanks again!” Pete returned. “Nice guy don’t you think?”
“Why does Carlos keep treating me like a bad child? He doesn’t have to keep checking up on me?” April whined.
“You pretty much ruined the ambitions of his best friend, and cost him some major bribes…I mean contracts.”
“This is just so unfair.”
“It’s an opportunity.” Pete answered jovially. “Treat it as such.”
“Stop being so annoyingly positive! It’s getting scary.”
“You, Booze, now.”


Three hours later April was drunk. Technically she’d been drunk after just thirty minutes, every other drink since then had simply been icing on the cake.
“Look on the bright side, look on the bright side!” She slurred, head lolling from side to side as her eyes failed to focus. “Ya know what? Screw the bright side! I hate the bright side! The bright side sucks.”
Pete checked his watch. “This is a golden opportunity.”
“No it isn’t! It’s a dead end story in space. I hate space! Its so…so…so… spacey!”
“Quite the philosopher when you’ve had a few huh?” He mentioned with barely restrained amusement.
“Well you can just stop smiling right now!” She gurgled back. “Coz if I go down, you go down too!”
“That an offer?”
“It’s a promise!” She countered, failing to grasp his meaning. “Your career is stuck to mine boy, and we’re both in a barrel heading for a waterfall.”
“Look at it this way, your Editor is two hundred million miles away. He’s got no say over what you record out here.”
“Yeah, because everything out here is boring!” She groaned. “He doesn’t care!”
“There’s always a story, always.” Pete stated confidently. “Even out here, you just have to find it.”
She took a clumsy drink, sliding the glass back down onto the wood table they were sat at. At this time of day the small bar was pretty empty which was fortunate, April was a relatively well known face and a few snaps of her in this state was bound to make her even more moody when she found them.
“I hate everything!” She announced grandly. “Especially optimism!”
“And nice people.”
“And nice people!” She growled. “I swear they all have something to hide!”
He checked his watch again. “We have that interview in forty minutes. Time to go.”

April glared at him. “I don’t want to do the interview, it’s a waste of me.”
“And what do you want to do? Sit here all day?”
She frowned, weighing the options. “Yes. Get me more booze.”
Pete stood up and wrapped his arms around April, hefting her up to her feet and holding her while she found a semblance of balance.
“You might think your career is over, but I don’t.” He said, taking a small bottle from his pocket. “And I’m going to make sure you don’t throw it away.”
He left her teetering slightly as he opened the bottle and shook out a small white pill.
“Here, take this.”
April shot him an evil stare. “Make the booze come back.”
He shrugged. “You’ll thank me for this later.”
He reached over and pinched April’s nose, pulling her closer.
“Ow, ow, ow!”
“Here we go, mouth open, here comes the aeroplane.”
“I’m going to kick you in the balls!” She yelled. “As soon as I learn to stand on one leg again!”
As she was complaining he dropped the pill into her mouth and closed her jaw, forcing her to swallow.
“There you go.”
At once her attitude disappeared, the pill instantly countering the affects of alcohol in her body. Her drunkenness vanished in a few moments and she steadied herself.
“Oh you son of a bitch.”
“Miracle of modern medicine.” He beamed. “Now you can conduct the interview without throwing up on the Admiral’s shoes.”
“That was a sober pill.”
“Yep.”
“You know what those things do to people!”
“Yeah, they flush alcohol from your system.” He confirmed. “You’ll find the bathroom over there, we’ve still got thirty five minutes.”
“I’m going to kill you when I get out of there!”
“I’ll have a mineral water waiting for you.” Pete sat down, hugely pleased with himself. “Need to replenish your fluids.”
“I am going to…” She paused. “Oh hell.”
“Better run, don’t want any puddles…”
Without any further delay she bolted for the bathroom
“You’re a dead man!”


Thirty minutes later they left the bar, April still quite annoyed but no longer falling over drunk. Pete followed her, still unconscionably happy.
“That was just evil.”
“You’ll thank me tomorrow when you still have a job.” Pete gave his stock answer.
“Those pills are not natural, and I’m still a bit queasy.”
“They aren’t perfect, but better than the alternative.” He answered. “Still leave a bit of a hangover though.”
She huffed, turning her head to take in the location. Inside the core of the facility Ares was just like any other modern city, it had streets, monorails, shops, businesses, tower blocks, even small stalls by roadsides. Cars whizzed by on their automated routes while a mixture of people milled around, most of them either tourists or off duty ship crews. Occasionally a frustrated local bounded past looking disdainful of the visitors.
A good number of people wore uniforms, the greens and browns of army camouflage or the far more common blue or white of the navy. The vast majority belonged to the European Union, it was after all their base, but a trained eye could pick out other nationalities stopping off on their way to or from the edges of the Solar System. This part of the station was a free port and open to anyone. It was run by a civilian council as part of the European Mars administration encompassing some half a billion souls on or above the Red Planet. About a third of the station however was largely off limits to civilians and foreign personnel, areas administered by the navy for the refit and supply of European Union Warships of which there were usually several docked at any one time. It was this restricted sector that the two journalists had been granted access to.
They walked past the shop fronts, most of them trying to sell souvenirs to tourists. April dismissed most of the items, guide vids, Mars Rocks, children’s trinkets based on little green men. They were all vastly over priced of course, though she did toy with the idea of buying one for her Editor and charging it to her business account.
Their path took them away from the busy streets and towards a blank set of doorways set into a squat metal building. One was vast, easily big enough to consume a pair of cargo trucks side by side, the other was much smaller and definitely person sized. Both were edged in yellow and black warning markings and both were guarded by very intimidating Marines.

The two reporters slowed their pace and grinned with a hint of nerves. The Marines were of course professionals and had no reason to hurt them, but they were still an imposing sight. There were five of them, one was a junior officer dressed in a white and grey urban splinter camouflaged uniform. He had a side arm and a green beret coupled with cold eyes and a very closely cropped haircut. His movements alone betrayed his strength and poise, the short and efficient gestures and steps ingrained as part of his combat training.
Scary as he was the four soldiers behind him stood at the doors were worse. Each was ensconced in fully articulated battle armour, pale grey suits of hard edged slanted metal and polymers that could resist all but the most destructive man portable weapons. They were faceless, the troopers inside informed of the world through holographic sensor displays requiring no clear visor that would be a weak point in their armour. They did not appear much bigger than the people within, but could carry immense weights with their mechanically supported limbs, which in this case meant an assortment of large and vicious guns. With the security at every entrance to the station it was unlikely these armoured icons of power would meet anything worthy of their attentions, but their simple presence did a lot to keep the area free of trouble. Very, very free of trouble.
“Hold please.” The unarmoured officer stepped forward, speaking with a French or Belgian accent April couldn’t quite place. Long ago English had been chosen as the language of Commerce and Aviation and by this era had also been adopted by the military for its multinational forces. “You must be the Journalists.”
“April Conroy, Peter Muller.” She introduced them both in her best unfazed act. “New York Times.”
“If you would place your hand here please.”
He held out a flat data tablet and in turn April and Pete had their hands scanned, the device swiftly checking several sources of data to confirm their identity. Both were cleared.
“If you enter that door you’ll find an elevator.” The French Marine pointed to the smaller entrance. “A liaison will meet you at the other end.”
“Got it, thanks.”
He stepped aside with no further word and let the two reporters pass. They stepped up to the door between a pair of Marines and activated the control panel fixed to the wall beside it. The armoured Marines ignored them, still as statues facing forward with legs set straight and a large rifle held across their chests. Not before time the doors opened and let the civilians in, leading them to an elevator.
“Pretty intimidating.” Peter said.
“Our guys are just as tough.” April dismissed.
“You can tell that guy was French though.”
“How?”
“Only person in a week who didn’t thank us for being here.”

The elevator descended quietly, the only indication they were moving coming from the illuminated numbers counting down above the door revealing which floor they were currently passing. There was no music to pass the time and no windows, the military apparently needing no such frivolities. After some seventy floors they slowed down, the magnetic rails stiffening their resistance and halting the car gently at their destination.
“Hello news People!” A man grinned in at them before the doors had even fully opened. “I hope your journey was good.”
“Well he’s not French.” April muttered. “Hi, I’m April.”
“Yes, I have seen your casts many times.” The male officer replied gleefully. “I am Miko Janssen, First Lieutenant assigned to the Press Office. If you please, come this way.”
The stepped out into a large lobby busy with uniformed personnel moving back and forth, transiting from one part of the base to another. Eight corridors branched off like spokes on a wheel heading away to unknown parts while banks of elevators lined the walls.
“It’s a nice station.” Pete said in way of conversation. “Very clean.”
“Thank you!” The officer grinned back. “It is an honour to have you here, I have watched many of your casts!”
“Yes, you mentioned that.” April said with a slight grating.
“I studied your camera work at Helsinki Media College.” Janssen informed Pete. “I graduated just last year.”
“Good for you, how do you like it out here?”
“Very good, lots to do.” He said. “I am a photographer, I take images of our ships for the recruiters out here.”
“You’ll have to show me some of your work.” Pete said. “How do you deal with light sources out here? I mean lighting a space ship must be a nightmare.”
“Yes, yes I will.” He answered with clear joy that a professional like Pete was interested in his skills. “But first the Admiral.” He opened a door into a basic waiting room with a few chairs, a further door at the far end bore the name of Admiral Bradford spelled out in brass letters. “If you wait here, I will inform him.”
The two reporters took a stand, not bothering to sit down as Janssen knocked on the door before walking in.
“Why is everyone so damn happy here?” April whispered irritably. “They aren’t this happy back home.”
“Because they’re Europeans and nobody hates them.” Peter said. “They’ve got no reason to be grumpy. Except the French.”
“Except the French.” April nodded.
“And even then it’s only because of tradition, and I reckon they put it on for tourists.”
“Unlike back home in the States.” April remarked bitterly. “Feels like the world is against us.”
“And that is why we’re here.” Pete answered. “To show that they aren’t.”

[Lightning_Count]

The office door swung back open to reveal the Lieutenant. “We are ready now, this way please.”
April took a breath and walked on, settling into her role and glossing over any doubts or lingering sores about why she was here. At the end of the day she had a job to do and like a true professional she was going to do it.
Admiral Trevor Bradford stood behind a deep Mahogany desk waiting for them to arrive. He was dressed formally in a traditional dark uniform thick with ribbons on his chest and gold bands on his sleeve. He wore several gold badges above his ranks of medal ribbons showing his branches of service, foremost being the four pointed star of the Space Fleet.
“Good to see you two.” He reached over and shook their hands before gesturing to two leather chairs in front of the desk. “Please sit yourselves down.”
“Thanks.” April smiled back. “Nice chair.”
“Real leather, not synthetic.” He said. “Better not put that in your report, the animal rights folks would probably try and storm this place!”
“Off the record.” She replied with a grin.
“Thank you Lieutenant.” Bradford nodded to Janssen before sitting down. “That will be all.”
The young Finnish man departed leaving the three alone staring across the desk. It held a basic computer terminal to the right and an assortment of photographs and holo images on the left, including one of a long prowed ship.
“My family.” Bradford noted April’s gaze. “My son is First Officer on a cruiser, very proud of him.”
“I’m sure you must be.” She returned genuinely.
“And that ship was my last command before somebody put me in charge of a desk.” He chuckled slightly. “Not half so much fun.”
Bradford was grey haired though his eyebrows were still black and quite bushy. His hair was curly and still rather thick topping a clean shaven and slightly rounded face set with a large nose. He looked more like a farmer than a naval officer, though his medals told a different story. Most were for long service or good conduct, but a respectable number were decorations for bravery and valour which was no small achievement considering the lack of any major wars over the last century.
“Can I offer you a drink?” he asked. “Water? Tea? In fact I can find a little rum around here somewhere…”
“No alcohol thanks.” April said quickly. “Not unless there’s a bathroom within jumping distance.”
“Long story.” Pete winked.
“Water is just fine.” She changed the subject.
“I’ll have some tea.” Pete took the offer. “Why not, when in Rome.”

Bradford opened a cabinet in the side of his desk and took out a jug of mineral water, filling a glass for April before tacking out a kettle and teapot for himself and Pete. The kettle boiled instantly allowing him to fill the pot with hot water.
“I prefer the old fashioned way, real tea leaves in a pot.” He said as he gave the mix a bit of a swish around in the pot. “Never cared for the instant stuff. Flick a switch and its done, where’s the skill in that?”
“Exactly.” Pete agreed, having no real idea either way.
“Hard to get them out here, tea leaves.” Bradford said. “But as a Royal Navy Admiral I do have certain perks associated with the rank.”
“Good to be king.” Pete grinned as Bradford poured two cups. “Black is fine.”
He put the pot and kettle away and settled back in his chair.
“Well, now we all have civilised drinks shall we begin?”
Pete took a quick sip, then took his palm camera out of his pocket. “One second admiral, just make sure we’re recording… okay, anytime.”
“Admiral Bradford,” April began, her voice both soothing and precise in its delivery. “Can you tell us what position you hold here?”
“My role is Commander of all EU Naval Assets in the Mars region, which basically means every ship, station and Marine unit in the Martian orbital plane.”
“Must be a lot of forces?” April said.
“Second only to the Earth orbital plane.” Bradford answered. “In fact we actually have more stations out here, but less ships and troops.”
“Why are there more stations than Earth?”
“Most of them are refuelling points for ships heading out into the outer solar system, or to top up on the way back home.” The Admiral answered simply. “Maybe a dozen are military bases, with two being classed as full space ports.”
“Like this one?”
“Like this one.”
“How many people is that exactly?” She wondered.
“I’m afraid I can’t say specifically, but most are civilians working on contract or businesses running their own operations. Things like shipping companies, surveyors, shop keepers and restaurateurs. There’s over a hundred million Europeans out here, about a million on this station alone.”
“Add to that other nationalities and you must keep busy out here?”
“You could say that. For every station we have you’ll find an American one, a Chinese one, an Indian or Oceanic one. Russia has been expanding its operations out here lately, so have the Latin League and the North African Alignment. I’d say in the last twenty years Mars orbit has grown faster than Earth.”

April had been asking the easy questions first, the straight forward obvious ones designed to settle in the Admiral and make him comfortable, more likely to give honest answers. She was a friendly face and projected a respectful manner which tricked the interviewee into thinking they were in control of the conversation. It was a good technique, whether it was moral or not was little more than a technicality. This was her job.
“For the clarity of the viewers I should say you are British, but part of the United European Command, correct?” She began to build up to the main topic of discussion.
“Indeed. Each of the European nations runs its own fleets, builds its own ships but to a common design. We each have our own ships so it is very rare to find a vessel with a mix of nationalities aboard, only for special missions usually. However our training, doctrines and command protocols are as identical as our ships, so in battle a Royal Navy ship performs identically to any other vessel in Europe. Well, accounting for crew quality of course.”
“Of course.”
“Britain has always been a maritime power and that has carried over into space. Each nation has to contribute an equal percentage of its GDP to defence but can choose where to make its contribution. Britain devotes most of its resources to the Navy so tends to operate more ships than our European partners. By contrast France and Germany invest more heavily in their armies meaning most of the United European Army is either French or German, while the Navy is almost half British.”
“Does this give Britain greater influence over Solar policy because it has a larger presence on the space lanes?”
“Not really.” Bradford replied. “Our policy is dictated purely by the EU Council, elected officials from across the continent. Any actions have to go through the Council, and then have to be signed off by the President.”
“Similar to the US system?” April observed.
“Relatively, yes.” Bradford agreed. “It’s a fairly common principle, most of the Big Six use a similar system of government.”
“How much influence does the military have on the EU government?”
“Very little, no more than any other group of citizens.”
“I ask because in other states, China especially, we’ve seen an increase of military figures trying to dictate policy to the leadership.”
“In China, yes.” Bradford nodded. “But you could say the same thing about the US too, several high ranking officers have been quoted as demanding a toughening of US policy towards foreign powers.”

April held back a smile, this was exactly the subject she had been steering towards.
“What do you think about that Admiral?”
“About the military making statements of policy? Well we all have our own opinions, but we also have a chain of command to respect. As an officer I would not speak out on a subject over which I have no authority.”
“Do you think the senior US and Chinese officers that have done so are in the wrong?”
“That… that is a matter for their own commanders to decide.”
“Have you noticed any changes out here reflecting the situation on Earth?”
“By ‘situation’ do you mean the sabre rattling both the US and Chinese are engaged in right now?” Bradford raised a thick eyebrow.
“If that is how you would define it Admiral.” She continued neutrally.
“I would.” Bradford affirmed. “Ever since President Brook was elected things have grown increasingly worse.”
“Do you disagree President Brook is merely reacting to Chinese provocation?”
“There’s reacting, then there’s over reacting.” Bradford clarified. “I followed the US Elections last year when Brook hammered his opponents. His whole platform was based on Pro-US and anti everyone else rhetoric. Especially China.”
“His election victory was one of the biggest landslides in history.” April informed.
“It was, and given the amount of coverage he received is it a surprise?” The Admiral countered. “He was never off the holos, we barely saw his opponents.”
“There wasn’t any bias in reporting events.” April quickly added, always aware that anything that sounded like an allegation could get them into a lot of trouble. “The rules for broadcasts were all the same.”
“Yes, the airtime was up for bids.” Bradford nodded. “Whoever had the most funding could bid highest and buy the most broadcast slots.”
“And John Brook had the most funding.”
“Too right he did, every mega corps in the country was backing him and working against his opponents. I’m no politician, but I know what sort of advantage that gave him. All those smears against his opponents that came out of nowhere didn’t help either.”
“All of which were fully disproved.”
“Oh yes, they were all false. Course we didn’t hear that until after the election.” Bradford grimaced slightly. “I’m not pretending my government is perfect, but from my point of view the last US election was not fair.”

This was exactly the sort of thing April was after. Senator John Brook had largely come out of nowhere to challenge the standing President and the opposition leader to a show down. It seemed foolish, Brook was the leader of a fairly new party called the Freedom Party, a fairly small assortment of people dedicated to restoring some pride to their nation. They firmly believed that both Republican and Democrat parties had grown soft and were no longer capable of giving the United States the direction it deserved.
Recent events had given them a voice, allowing the previously unheard of party to start building a reputation. Brook had spoken out against foreign governments encroaching on US territory in the Solar System, especially the Asteroid belt, and his predictions seemed to be coming true. The biggest culprit was China which disregarded the defined borders between its own and US territory sparking several incidents between civilian ships.
In the early days of deep space exploration most nations had claimed vast swathes of territory almost arbitrarily with no international treaty or system to formalise borders. At first this was largely ignored as no nation had the technology to regularly travel beyond Martian orbit and exploit their disputed possessions anyway. But times changed, and as science bounded forward creating ever more efficient engines and finally artificial gravity the entirety of the solar system was suddenly opened for everyone to exploit, and foremost among these were the Mega corporations.
Swiftly mining ships were dispatched to begin operations and physically take possession of particular sectors. While Europe had focused on the region around Jupiter both the US and China had staked their claims in the Asteroid belt, with claimed areas frequently overlapping.
Initially there was enough space for both. All powers had claims in the Asteroid belt though the lion’s share was held by the US and China, and for decades there was enough for everyone. The major corporations set up mines, refinery stations and convoys of transport ships running frequent services to hub stations on the Martian orbital plane. The operations proceeded peacefully as the corporations slowly consolidated and expanded, right up until they reached the disputed zones.
Things then started to get nasty with corporations from both the US and China mining asteroids clamed by each other. While the international courts tried to settle the disputes industrial sabotage began to make itself known, in one instant thirty American miners died when their tunnel seal cracked and expelled the entire contents of the mine into cold vacuum.
These conflicts were well reported on Earth, often times the media taking a story and filling in the blanks with wild speculation and lurid details. It was perhaps no coincidence that most media outlets in the US and China also happened to be owned by the same corporations that were experiencing losses through industrial espionage.

Each of the corporations had supported political parties, in America usually Republican or Democrat. In return for their support and funding they had grown to expect a certain level of support, some would say obedience, from the US government. When the corporations began to demand action to protect their assets, when they demanded sanctions and even military intervention the government in its wisdom clearly said no. The US President would wait for the results of the International Court and act on them. Every day the courts deliberated cost the corporations billions of dollars, and diminished their patience.
Finally they decided to act. When the next election came around each and every Mega Corp in the US withdrew its support from the big two parties and backed John Brook’s Freedom Party, a move which stunned the US government. Brook’s rhetoric about a stronger America matched their aims perfectly, his criticism of the weakness of the current President and the fact the Chinese were laughing in the face of every American struck a chord with many people. The Mega Corps were happy to help publicise his picture of a downtrodden US through their domination of the media and repeat time after time that the old parties had failed repeatedly and America needed a change, a new party to restore its pride and strength. America needed John Brook.
In less than five years he had jumped up from a minor Senator to President, and the Freedom party owned almost three quarters of the Senate giving him virtual carte blank when it came to setting US policy. Something he did not hesitate to embrace. On the surface it was a good thing, America had a purpose and a direction, it had definition and a swelling of national pride. The only problem was that the new pride was built on anger towards all those that had apparently harmed America in the past. That made the other governments of the world a little jumpy.

“Can you tell us how the President’s new Foreign policy has affected things out here?” April moved on, setting up her next line of questions.
“I should say on the one hand its boosted trade, lot more money flowing through the Martian sector.” Bradford admitted. “That’s probably why you haven’t heard a whole lot of complaining so far, American money is welcome out here and Brook’s expansion of mining operations has surged the economy. People are getting rich and nobody will ever complain about that.”
“But you feel there’s a negative side?”
“I know it for a fact, all you need to do is look at the bodies piling up between the Mars Sector and the Belt sector. People are dying out here, a lot of people, and it’s getting worse.”

April’s research had told her most of this anyway, but she had to dig to find this data and it was not widely broadcast back home, at least not in the States. They had sent her out here for a story and she was going to damn well get one, and not some wishy washy anecdotes about it being ghostly out here, or the future of humanity and all that crap. She wanted something with shockwaves and after her handling by the company she wanted payback. Errol Corp had targeted her as a scapegoat for the fiasco with the Senator, they were the hand pushing her away, so they were going to be on the receiving end of her wrath.
“We hear a lot about how dangerous it is out here, and that there are many accidents.” April announced. “Is the increase in fatalities simply due to their being more people out here?”
“No they aren’t.” Bradford stated. “Not unless people are getting accidentally machine gunned, incinerated or dismembered by high calibre projectiles.”
“Can you tell us more Admiral?”
“It’s quite simple, there is a war going on out here, a war between the Corporations. Mainly Errol Corp and Heng Enterprises, Errol owns most of the US facilities in the disputed zones, Heng owns most of the Chinese ones.”
“And these two groups are actively fighting each other?”
“After a fashion.” Bradford nodded. “They have both hired mercenaries to do the dirty work.”
“According to official statements both companies use Private Security Companies to protect their assets, but have never authorised attacks.” The reporter stated. “They blame rogue factions and pirates.”
“Pirates.” Bradford repeated with a grunt. “Let me tell you Miss Conroy, there are no Pirates out here. Pirates need hidden bases and constant income, they are glorified thieves. There are no hidden bases out here, modern sensor technology is too powerful to hide something as big as a supply yard. Also a lot of the attacks are based on pure destruction and not theft, they don’t steal the cargo of the ships they attack. How many thieves go to that sort of trouble and then leave their spoils behind?”
“Has the EU found proof Errol Corp or Heng Enterprises are sponsoring attacks that result in multiple civilian deaths?”
The Admiral grimaced. “No, not yet. But we will. Many of these attacks take place in international space and some within EU territory. It’s just a matter of time before we catch these so called Pirates in the act.”
“What about the Security firms, the mercenaries as you call them, have you encountered any of them?”
“A few, but their ships are banned from EU space. In fact they are banned by all nations except the US and China.” Bradford informed. “Most governments didn’t like the precedent of arming civilians and it seems to have been born out by what we are seeing today. It has essentially given the Mega Corps their own private Navies, forces they are using against each other to maximise profits at the cost of lives.”
“Allegedly Admiral, there is after all no proof those groups legally contracted to any Corporation are launching offensives.”
“Allegedly.” Bradford nodded slowly. “But when you’ve been out here a while all that bull about pirates and rogue ships ends up looking like the lies they are.”
“Private Security firms are allowed under US law providing their weapons are highly limited, less than the equivalent Coast Guard cutter.”
“I’m sure that’s the law.” Bradford stated. “But it isn’t what’s happening out here.”

She took a quick glance over to Pete who was still recording, focused intensely on the camera and its images.
“Have you found Private armed ships have been breaking the law?”
“Frequently, that’s why they are banned from our space.” Admiral Bradford explained. “I don’t want civilian EU ships caught in the crossfire of some damn private war.”
“What happens when you encounter one of these ships?”
“If it is within international space we record its registry and transmit the data home where a formal complaint is made to whoever registered the vessel, which would be either China or the US. So far we haven’t heard a word back from either government.”
“Do you think these heavily armed ships are operating with the consent of their governments?”
“Yes I do.”
It was exactly what April wanted to hear.
“That would mean organisations like Errol Corp were consistently breaking the law, and the US government was failing to prosecute them.”
“That would be correct.” He confirmed. “And further more it adds up to the evidence we’ve found surrounding attacks. EU ships have answered distress calls from several mines, refinery ships and transports these last few months and the damage patterns betray military grade weapons.”
“Which are illegal under the laws of every country?”
“Highly illegal.”
“And you say it’s getting worse?”
“We’ve noticed a definite escalation. At least three convoys have been wiped out entirely with at least a hundred fatalities, we’ve detected skirmishes between mercenary ships blasting away at each other, and last week we found the wreck of a Chinese gunboat.”
“So someone had the power to destroy a military patrol craft?” April questioned.
“Exactly, definitely not within the allowed capabilities of any civilian vessel.” He sighed. “Every day brings fresh casualties, more reports of death and destruction. I watch the news and I can tell you the vast majority of these events go unreported. Nobody on Earth knows the truth, thousands of people are dying out here every month, this is a full scale war waged between hundreds of ships and tens of thousands of people. An Illegal war.”
“Do you blame the US government for this?”
“No, but I blame them and the Chinese for not stopping a situation which is clearly out of control. They need to take responsibility for their citizens and assert control over these Corporations before more people die. If they don’t, this conflict will continue to escalate and millions of lives could be at risk.”
“Admiral Bradford, thank you.”

She made a cut gesture to Pete who turned off the small camera, closing it up and dropping it in his pocket.
“Good interview Admiral, I think it helps tell people what its like out here.”
“I hope so.” The old man expressed flatly. “So far the attacks have been limited to mines, Corporate transports and other mercenaries. Unfortunately the way things have been going lately both sides have been growing more bold, hitting closer to major shipping lines and bases. One of these days they’ll hit one of the hub stations, the big civilian transfer points for ships heading in and out of the different sectors. If that happens, no when it happens, a lot of innocent people will die.”
“I’ve been investigating corruption for a good long time now, I’d guessed some of this, but the scale terrifies me.” April said quietly. “I knew these big Corporations could get away with a lot by bribing the right people, but I never imagined they were killing each other like this.”
“It’s a powder keg.” Bradford agreed. “I’ve given orders to seize any Mercenary ship that strays into our territory just like everyone else. I also know both US and Chinese navies have orders to destroy any mercenary from a foreign power found in their space. No warning, no communication, just shoot to kill.”
“And as only China and the US have mercenaries…” Pete began.
“You have Americans and Chinese killing each other.” April finished.
“That’s been happening for years, it’s only now people are noticing.” Spoke the Admiral. “Ever since President Brook came to power and implemented this new policy, the Corporations have been running wild.”
“So have the Chinese ones.” Pete added. “If anything they are even worse.”
“From what I know they have even more power over their government.” April remarked. “Especially Heng, that witch is supposed to run China single handed.”
“Just like Cyrus Errol is supposed to have President Brook in his back pocket.” Her friend shrugged. “The two biggest business people in the world squaring off with each other.”
“They’re not squaring off, they’re actually fighting. They are at war.” Bradford said. “And if they do have the sort of influence you say they do you can bet they are pushing hard for their respective governments to get involved.”
Pete shook his head. “Brook has been wanting to face down China all his life, make them back off and score a victory over them.”
“China won’t back down over this, not if they’re forced on the issue.” The Admiral stated.
“Heng won’t allow it.” April nodded. “And neither will Errol.”
“So you see how this can escalate?” Bradford pointed out solemnly. “If they can persuade their governments to get involved, to use the actual military to try and legitimise their territorial claims… well, you could end up with a full scale war.”
“China against America.” April shivered. “It would be a bloodbath.”
“I suggest you try to make people understand that.” Bradford suggested. “The more people know about this, the more likely it is nothing will happen.”
“Well, we wanted a big story.” Pete offered a weak smile. “Here it is. We get to prevent the first war in space.”
As the weight of responsibility settled in April didn’t look too thrilled.
“You know, maybe I should have gone for that job at ‘Make Over Weekly’ after all.”

[Lightning_Count]

2

Space Complex Ares
Mars Orbit
February 16th 2113


The interview had been more defining for April than she had really expected. Her mind had told her that at first it was pointless, a waste of her talent. Then she had tried looking at it from another angle, a way to get a little revenge on those she blamed for her purgatory out here in the wilderness, something which was actually rather worth her time. But now though she was less sure of herself. Embarrassing her tormentors was one thing, but if Admiral Bradford was right and if Errol Corp really was sponsoring a private war with their Chinese competitors the implications were huge.
Cyrus Errol had a hand in everything. For the last sixty years Errol Corp had been a staple of American life producing everything from food and domestic appliances to warships and space stations. They had subsidiaries involved in every industry, patents in every field of technology and an annual turnover that dwarfed most countries. The amount of power they wielded was immense, yet most of the time that power was hidden safe behind closed doors unseen by the majority of people.
There were rumours of course, but as Errol held majority shares in most US based media outlets nothing official was ever broadcast with only one or two linked stories slipping through the net, like April’s little exposé. The control of information on Earth, especially in the US was extremely tight. It was increasingly hard to speak out about the corporations because they controlled and regulated most means by which a voice could be heard. When the Senate had tried to do something about it media dominance helped ensure a poor performance in the elections. The President and the Senate were unquestioning supporters of Cyrus Errol, indeed most owed him their jobs and as such allowed him to get away with murder. Apparently literally.

Virtually no one knew Errol himself, a recluse who lived on a vast estate in the American Midwest far from the hustle of cities and the glare of spotlights. He was said to be about a hundred and forty years old which with modern medical technology was no more than advanced middle age and was still energetic enough to ride horses, shoot, and frequently chew out his underlings who failed to perform to his standards. He also happened to be one of the smartest people alive and never let anyone forget it. His grasp of technology and the means of exploiting it was legendary, second only to his greed. The exact total of his fortune was unknown, but it was suggested he was the world’s first trillionaire.
Opposing Cyrus Errol in any matter was a fast track to failure. He swatted other businesses out of existence with the impunity of a child with a fly catcher. Companies worth hundreds of billions of dollars were nothing to him, if they had something he wanted he bought them out. If they refused he undercut them, destroyed them entirely, then bought out the ruins. He was ruthless, single minded, and when denied something would fly into a rage. In many ways he was a megalomaniac and it appeared that out here those tendencies were clear to see.

Heng Enterprises stood in his way, they claimed something he wanted and Errol would not allow it. Unfortunately for him Zing Heng was a business woman of such calibre that she might as well have been Errol’s clone. She was his equal and opposite, his Nemesis, and Heng Enterprises was every bit as rich and influential as Errol Corp. Maybe more so. Heng could not be bought out and was too powerful for conventional brinkmanship or power games to be of much effect. It seemed that Errol had therefore gone ahead and used the last option open to him, physically destroying Heng assets with armed warships. It was frankly no surprise to anyone who knew her that Heng herself fought fire with fire.

The competition had been going on for several years and was fairly common knowledge. The New York Times frequently reported on the underhanded tactics of Heng and her employees, even going so far as to accuse them of murder and sabotage. It was probably true, but made no mention to the fact that Errol was doing the exact same thing. The Chinese media reported much the same thing but in reverse, decrying Errol Corp as immoral greed obsessed cowboys riding roughshod over the law while of course showing Zing Heng as whiter than white.
April had an opportunity out here to find the truth, to see things with her own two eyes and not rely on bribed eyewitnesses or doctored computer logs. How exactly she was going to spread the message was another matter, but one she would handle later. For now her task out here was clear, and that was to damn Cyrus Errol.

It was easy to say, but not so easy to do. Almost nobody had ever tried to stand up to him and those that did often settled down after a while, usually with suspiciously inflated bank accounts. April knew that bribery was rife in the media and on the rare occasions that didn’t work intimidation and ridicule were used to destroy the messenger and therefore invalidate the message. Errol Corp sued everyone who would not stay quiet, and their show trials were perversions of justice that were little more than streams of lies. Even if an honest judge found against the Corp it was usually too late and buried under other stories in the bias media.
Dealing with that would be tough, but then again nobody had been in a position to report on such a major story. The fact that a private war was going on with the apparent tacit approval of the US government was a very big deal, the biggest story in decades and something which would make April famous for life. Something like this could not be suppressed. She encouraged herself by demanding the story be told, by repeating over and other that the thousands of dead out here needed to be heard and it was the moral thing to do. Mostly though her motives were entirely selfish, and each passing hour made her more determined to seize fame and glory. April Conroy, the woman who brought down Cyrus Errol.

What had seemed like hell now became paradise, a once in a lifetime opportunity to make a difference. Errol Corps had got it wrong, they had exiled her without thinking about what they were doing, they had underestimated her and by all that was just and right they were going to pay for that arrogance. They had played games with her life and career, and that was going to come back and bite them.
The interview had confirmed a lot of what she had expected, people in authority out here knew what was going on but just couldn’t prove it. What she needed was first hand documentary evidence which showed a ship employed by Errol Corp attacking another Chinese registered ship without provocation. It happened all the time, but no one could prove that it did. The only way she was going to get it was to go out there and find it herself. She couldn’t take a civilian ship, it was far too dangerous, but by yet another stroke of reversed luck she didn’t have to worry about it one bit.

“Miss Conroy? Mr Muller?”
She swivelled in the luxuriant beige couch as she heard her name being called, overlooking the bland decoration of the waiting room to settle her gaze on a blue uniformed officer.
“Lieutenant Janssen isn’t it?” She returned a smile.
“Yes, that is me.” The man grinned widely. “Are you ready to join the ship?”
“Why yes, yes we are.” She stood. “Lead the way.”
Pete stood up beside her, shouldering their bags with suspicion.
“What happened to ‘this is the worst thing to ever happen to me’ then? Why all cheery?”
“Because I sense a story.” She replied happily. “A good one, and nobody else has a chance of breaking it. Do the words ‘Worlds wide exclusive’ mean anything to you?”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” He winced. “If we screw up again I can’t imagine where the news team will send us next.”
“If we do this right we’ll be the news team, Editor and Co-Editor.” She offered him a dazzling ten thousand dollar smile, which was the actual price the dentist had charged for all the cosmetic work to her teeth. “We could be looking at the story of the decade, hell the century! We’re in the right place at the right time, and we’re getting a free ride into the thick of it. All we have to do is report what we see and get the word out.”
“So now it’s a free ride to the story of the century? Not being imprisoned a billion miles from anywhere?”
She shrugged. “All perspective Pete. I got a new one now.”
“Never had you down as a closet optimist.”
“Never had a reason to be one until now.” April smiled back.
“Excuse me.” Janssen spoke again. “Are you both ready?”
“I am, Pete?”
“Yeah, why not.” He accepted. “Let’s go.”

The second and main part of the assignment was to report on what life was like for European sailors out in deep space. At first it had seemed an added ignominy that they had to spend time on an EU ship rather than one of their own US vessels but now it was yet another blessing in disguise. The EU was neutral when it came to the growing tensions between the US and China and had no affiliations with Errol Corp, Europe had its own tycoons and magnates that generated much the same situation but on a smaller scale. By luck rather than design Europe’s national corporations were more equal in scale rather than the huge monopolies that dominated the US, India and China which kept them in constant competition. They were often so busy dealing with each other and their foreign rivals they had little time or spare money to exert substantial influence on government. That was not to say it didn’t happen, but certainly not to the same extent as Errol and Heng embodied.

The burst of space travel which gave birth to the Mega Corporations also served to define them. At first the original aeronautic and technical giants operated together internationally. Companies from Europe, Russia, America and China would work together to build the next generation of space craft as the costs and profits demanded international cooperation. The pinnacle of this was the Mars mission, a vessel built by both governments and corporations from across the globe highlighting the unity of mankind. It had been an event filled with such promise, yet was ultimately short lived.

As the technology became more prevalent and costs came down it became easier for lone companies to put assets in space, they no longer needed to pool their resources and share profits, they could keep their gains to themselves. Old rivalries between companies quickly returned as secrets were hoarded and unilateral claims to territory were made. At first government subsidies were still required which tended to tie companies to their country of origin and force the closure of international branches. True multinational companies began to whither, but the loss of trade on Earth was more than made up for by the explosion of opportunities in space.

The various Mega Corporations that formed around this time redefined business, going beyond conglomerates to create monstrous entities that could quite literally hold the world to ransom if they wished. Privatisation in government became more common as the Corporations made bids for aspects of government. They administered tax returns, licensed vehicles and smaller companies, provided admin staff and officer workers, paid for the health service and oversaw the welfare systems across the globe all with the efficiency and coldness of big business. Only the treasury, law enforcement and the military remained purely under government controls on average and even then a lot of the back ground work and support was provided by various national corporations.

They were omnipresent, virtually everything humanity touched had at one point being manufactured, recorded or claimed by a Mega Corp. Every aspect of life held the promise of profit and as a result the Corporations were there to take advantage and make a few swift bucks. Even death had a profit, and it seemed both Errol Corp and Heng Enterprises were hard at work tying to make money by killing off each other.
Most people did not really mind the pervasive grip of the Corporations as it did not really harm them. They watched Holo TV, ate their food, worked mostly under their umbrella and accepted each day with contentment. Right now though April could see that the future would change that, that the conflict out here could well spark a major war between two great superpowers and that would change everything for the worse. It had to be stopped, and she had the means to do it.

“The docking bay is ready.” Janssen informed them in his usual exuberant manner. “You’re timing was good, you only had to wait ten hours before departure.”
“I could have used a bit more time here.” Pete mentioned. “Spend a decent night in a hotel bed before those navy bunks…”
“Our Editor booked us on the last possible flight, he wanted us to have no time to rest.” April informed.
“Oh? Why did he do that?” Janssen wondered as they walked through bland corridors.
“Because he is what we call a rat bastard.” April answered concisely. “That about covers it.”
They walked around a few more corners, a handful of personnel passing them by in the other direction.
“Pretty quiet here.” Pete said. “I expected it to be busier.”
“We are in a quiet sector, not many ships berthed here.” Janssen gave reply. “It’s busier closer to the core docks, we have two carriers in and those things require a lot of supplies.”
“Ever served on a ship?”
“No, not yet, I went straight into the Liaison job.” He answered. “But I hope I do one day, it would be a great fun.”
“Hope so.” Pete grinned. “We’ll let you know how it is out there.”
“I envy you a little.” The Finnish man admitted in his heavy accent. “A five month patrol is…”
“Whoa, five months?” April spluttered. “I thought it was six weeks?”
“No, it’s five months, that is how long it takes.”
“But we’re only patrolling the Asteroid belt.” She retorted. “It can’t take that long to get there.”
“I…I’m sorry, the ship you are assigned to isn’t going to the asteroid belt.” Janssen said with a tinge of apology. “There must have been some crossed wires, your Editor was very specific.”

Pete cleared his throat. “So where are we going?”
“Neptune.”
April did a remarkably good job of holding her temper. “I’m going to throttle him with his own guts that utter…”
“What are we actually going to do out there?” Pete spoke over her, focusing attention on himself.
“Err, just a standard patrol, make sure the deep range stations are all okay. The specifics are up to the Captain.”
April picked up a little. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the Captain decides exactly where the ship goes, whether it pauses to investigate any anomalies or suspicious vessels.”
“And the Asteroid belt is on this route? We could in theory stop in the belt on our way out if something seemed wrong?”
“I suppose so.” Janssen guessed. “The Captain does have that authority.”
She visibly brightened up. “Great, that’s some good information to know.”
“April…” Pete began.
“Relax, I’m not going to do anything embarrassing.” She soothed. “Well, nothing that won’t be worth it.”

They passed a final corner and suddenly came to a wide lounge filled with cheap plastic chairs arrayed in massive banks, seating for military crews awaiting final permission to board their vessels. The lounge was currently empty, a lone janitor cleaning the floor in one corner, but far more noticeable were the huge windows that consumed an entire wall in a vista of blackness and superimposed steel. It provided a panoramic view of the outside docking bay, of the scores of maintenance craft and EVA crews flitting back and forth, of the booms and piers, and in the centre of the window dominating everything was the hard edged figure of a warship.
The vessel was immense, a kilometre long shape with a roughly hexagonal cross section tapering to a long sharp point at one end and a quartet of shrouded engines at the other. The ship was coated in dull grey thermal paint, a dark morass against the much paler dock behind it. Tubes and conduits hung from it connecting the ship to the station and transferring its lifeblood of fuel and people in long steady streams. The angled hull was buried in structures, blocky sensor arrays, tall communication masts, armoured superstructures and of course guns. Lots and lots of guns.

She was a battleship and armed appropriately. Her dorsal hull was commanded by four turrets, two forward and two aft mounting twin rail cannons in an arrangement mirrored on the ventral spine giving her a total of sixteen large calibre guns. Her flanks were studded with smaller rail guns in dozens of turrets, the barrels protruding like spines in all directions at all angles, dual purpose weapons used against smaller ships or swarms of attack drones. Finally any part of her hull not given over to giant guns or sensors was instead offered up to point defences, hundreds of turreted laser cannons that could cut down missiles and drones at extreme range long before they were a danger to the ship.

The battleship was an imposing unit, a well balanced machine designed solely to confront other machines of similar construction and blow them into tiny irradiated pieces. Her main guns fired six thousand ton projectiles at incredible speed, her hull hid missile tubes holding weapons that could turn whole cities to glass, her unadorned hull was built of the latest super dense alloys using gravity bonding to enhance its strength and stand up to enemy weapons on a similar scale. The battleship was a potent symbol of military might, always had been and always would be, yet in the military they had already been superseded by Dreadnoughts and Supercarriers in the last five or six years as the ultimate weapons of war. Yet even so the battleship remained a more balanced and efficient weapon than its larger cousins and the biggest warship most people were likely to see.

“Oh yeah, that’ll do.” Pete grinned. “I feel a lot safer now.”
“I can’t see anything short of another battleship hurting that.” April shared his smile. “And I hear the European ones are some of the best in service, and spacious.”
“That’s a relief, beats sharing a bunk with you and your cosmetics collection.”
Beside them, ever so gently, Janssen coughed. It was not a sign of illness, or an attempt to gather their attention, it was the sound of a man trying to think of a way to burst their happy little bubbles with the needle of reality.
April closed her eyes and inhaled, she knew right then what was coming.
“That isn’t our ship is it?”
The officer shook his head.
“Where?”