Book 01, Chapter 04
All of the crewmembers were gathered into a circular rotunda, shepherded by security personnel. Many crewmembers exchanged awkward glances as they had all been separated from each other for quite some time.
“Is everyone ok?” Wits asked quietly.
“Wha’s dis all about?” Pip-is asked in addition.
“Everyone, you’ll need to be quiet and mindful for the briefing,” Kazochi explained quietly. “We need to take our seats.”
They sat at the same side of a long table across from a podium that was flanked by two long desks. A projector floated downward from the ceiling, hanging in a stable position.
Everyone was nervous for the many obvious reasons and some with their own hidden reasons. Even the Graduates, who were familiar with the processes and methods of the Anlov Military and Scholar Program, had their own apprehension. All sat in uncomfortable silence.
Doors opened on both sides of the rotunda near the podium and desks. Anlov officers marched in, including Admiral Ryitonem Izkuio who took position behind the podium. The officers took positions behind their desks, pulled out binders, packets and loose documents, and placed them on their desk. Besides Ryitonem, the other officers wore ranks of captain and commander, with one lieutenant on the far side. They each placed their thumbs against a section of the desk in front of them. A rectangular segment in front of them swiveled up and illuminated with the name and rank of the officer sitting at the position. The lieutenant, Lieutenant T. Olyeg moved in front of the assembled commanders and faced the crew.
“Good afternoon,” she greeted.
She didn’t wait for a response, and continued introductions.
“Candidates and crew for the Anlov Scholar ship: ‘Cardboard Box’: you’ll be inducted now, one at a time. This panel of commanding officers will bear witness to each person’s induction. After induction, you’ll be briefed on the nature of this task force you’d be assigned to.”
“Each non-graduate will be given a new rank and title of Anlov Authorized Specialist. The equivalent rank would be Ensign and you’ll follow all orders of those higher in rank.”
“We’ll call each non-graduate candidate up one at a time. While you stand before the board assembled here, you’ll be read the Oath of Promise and Ideals of the Anlov Scholar Program. Then you’ll be given up to three minutes to consider carefully your choice to accept. You may choose not to accept, thus negating your service to the Anlov Scholar Program in this capacity. After the nanomachines we placed in you earlier are removed, you’ll be taken back to your home or wherever it is you’ll want to go so long as it’s within the Anlov Sphere. Immigration services are standing by if you wish to stay on Anlov Home or anywhere in the Mountain Range. For those who are minors, you’ll be assigned a case manager to assist you in making decisions and carrying them out. They’ll help you find work, housing, and stability on Anlov Home or anywhere in the Mountain Range.”
She spoke quickly and didn’t pause once. Like a robot, she spoke with very systematic words, lacking in emotion.
Each crewmember looked carefully at each other. Many had toyed with the thought of not joining since coming to the military base, but hadn’t given it a great deal of consideration.
Ocura was unsure about the idea of a case manager. Those types of people were apathetic at best on Midin. However, she was fairly confident that Rio and Teliar wouldn’t likely return there or try to venture out beyond the Anlov Sphere. But where would they go?
“If you accept, you’ll be led through the pledge to Oath of Promise and Ideals of the Anlov Scholar Program, and be officially inducted into the Anlov Scholar Program. You’ll return to a seat and await further instruction. Also, the credentials earned by your proficiency tests will be awarded to you.”
Nuta considered that last segment carefully. He had just earned flight licenses beyond what he could earn at the regular pace and would bypass several years of unnecessary flight training.
“I want to stress to you all that your decision is yours to make. Don’t feel pressured to accept or decline based on what you think your peers would say or do. We want you to willingly choose the option that you feel you should.”
Rio looked down at the table. It’s easier said than done to make a choice without feeling pressured by others. She didn’t really like any of these people, but wondered if her sister and brother would join.
“That unpressured element will be enforced,” Lieutenant Olyeg declared.
Rio felt her stomach fall.
To the side of the table with the assembled crew, the floor split open, and up raised a long bench. Then the table itself split apart and slid apart with each chair. Now each crew member sat at their own desk. Walls sprouted from the ground around the long bench and around each crewmember.
“These walls will deafen all sound in and out as well as block all visual communication. They’ll be deployed over each of you. You’ll wait until your name is displayed on the inner surface of the walls and at that point the walls will lower and you’ll be led through your induction. If you’ve accepted, the walls around the bench to your side will lower and you’ll take a seat. If you decline, you’ll be escorted out.”
More hurried glances were traded amongst the crew, each hoping to discern a choice they should make from their rapid scans of each other.
“We’ll begin now,” Lieutenant Olyeg announced as the walls grew upward and over the top of each candidate.
As they were being enclosed, small vents opened in the ground beneath them to provide circulated air. The walls were like a liquid in that they didn’t collide shut, rather they blended into each other like paint being poured into the same pan.
A newest, strongest anxiety since arriving at the military base filled each of the enclosed chambers.
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As the walls fell down into the ground around Mahie’s feet, she breathed a sigh of relief, but only slightly.
“Mahie Denayer,” Lieutenant Olyeg called. “Approach the board.”
Mahie’s mind shouted to move, but she found herself slowly leaving her seat instead. She stepped very sheepishly into the looming presence of the Anlov officers. The officer at the podium, Admiral Ryitonem wore a wide smile. Normally Mahie would take this as a good sign, but something about the smile gave her no comfort.
Her head jittered in a turn towards Lieutenant Olyeg. Her mouth was dry. She was unsure if she were to say something or not.
“I’ll read to you the oath. You’ll listen to each word and each message. You’ll ask yourself with each statement if you are able and willing to live by those words and messages,” Olyeg explained.
“Do you understand?”
Mahie’s head snapped back to face the Lieutenant. She had wandered her gaze along the officers that watched her.
“Yes,” Mahie almost squeaked.
Mahie listened very carefully to the elaborately intricate oath recited to her. She heard Anlov call on her to act as an unofficial ambassador. Scholars were Anlov’s greatest treasure, and thus were to possess and encourage the Ideals of Anlov as though a personification of it. Anlov and its Scholars were to compromise no ethics for gain or amusement. They were to remain neutral in conflicts and to avoid repeating sorrowful histories. Their ultimate goal was peace, stability, and knowledge. Responsibility for all actions and their consequences was to always be in the minds of the Scholars.
Mahie heard the words of sages detailing the obligation to study, learn, and observe the world unknown while remaining invisible and unobtrusive. Scholars, as all Anlov, were to exploit nothing. They were to interfere with nothing save under the direst of circumstances. Those circumstances didn’t include nature and the cosmos’ sometimes-disagreeable courses. The sagacity of the words included the requirement that the Scholars serve to the best and beyond their physical ability and beyond the capacity they themselves thought possible. They were to never stop improving upon themselves. Another central tenet was the safe preservation of knowledge and the stewardship of discoveries. Some single artifacts dropped on accident into wrong hands could bring unimaginable pain. A Scholar’s duty was to prevent that.
The message turned to one of guardians. All Scholars were expected to follow orders and maintain loyalty to Anlov and peace itself. Any finds and knowledge were to be protected by the Scholars if needed. They would be expected to perform on par with trained military. Protocol was to be maintained at all times. Scholars’ defense extended to the technology, methods, and weapons of all Anlov so that technologies were to remain in the stewardship of Anlov.
A long oath shaped through a long history of the Anlov, came to a close with the most important messages to linger with the Scholar. Preservation of finds and the following of orders and protocol extended onto death. Each Scholar was expected to, if necessary, die to preserve finds or knowledge or to carry out orders or protocol. The next most important thing was the punishment for treason or unspeakable conduct. Penalties were harsh and unwavering.
Their preferred capital punishment was banishment or exile. Those found guilty would be flown to the very edge of known space, and be launched in a capsule to float into the expanse. Engraved on and in the capsule would be the crimes of the accused so that both they and anyone that found them would know their crime. A tombstone. In the case that they couldn’t risk the guilty being retrieved from space, they would be buried far underground on a specific moon in a similar capsule. In any event, their name, crimes, and pain caused would be etched into the history as people to avoid imitating. They would be immortalized only to be scorned.
“You have three minutes to consider your answer,” Lieutenant Olyeg stated before stepping backward.
Mahie’s head swam with questions, none of which could be answered.
“What would Heq do? Wait, she already joined and graduated, so she must’ve consented to this at some point. She agreed to all of this, and I had no idea what all it was?” Mahie’s thoughts churned.
Her parents had never mentioned this. How could she have known she would have her own life to worry about or that she would need to learn combat? Her sister never talked about such things, not even while listing her complaints. Was it because she wasn’t allowed to?
Heq went through all of this and hid it entirely. Maybe it was no wonder she ran off to a different path. Did they even allow her to run off? Didn’t Anlov keep an eye on all of their Graduates?
Was it even worth it for her to follow in her sister’s path?
“Three minutes have passed. What’s your choice?”
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“You have three minutes to consider your answer,” Lieutenant Olyeg stated before stepping backward.
Sweat dripped from around Pip-is’ glasses. He felt his breath leave his lips in ragged bursting rasps.
“What’s Geib gotten me into?!” he wanted to scream.
Why would he want to have the risk of death? More important to Pip-is, why would he want all of these responsibilities? Why wasn’t he at home right now? Pip-is thought this entire joining-Geib-and-exploring thing would be simple. Nothing at all like this. He would have to get in shape and train for combat, and that would be so much work. He would have to learn and be schooled on so many other things. These things were no simple manner either. No, he would need to learn scores of regulations, advanced sciences, flight training, astronomy, and physics. He would actually have to work.
Pip-is dripped sweat to a small pool at his feet. He shook his head as he grew overwhelmed.
His hands drooped lifelessly as he then remembered what his mother had said. He could see his mother coming in and waking him each morning. She would hold back a silent despair that he would never accomplish what she felt he was capable of. If he joined, he would be capable of much more since Anlov Scholar computer systems were leaps and bounds beyond even his custom built computers.
But he knew it wouldn’t be all fun with computers and programming. Pip-is knew he would have to constantly have to deal with what he dreaded more than anything: work and responsibilities. Again, his mother came into his thoughts. Wouldn’t she prefer he was safe at home than possibly sent to his demise or suffering?
“Three minutes have passed. What’s your choice?”
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“You have three minutes to consider your answer,” Lieutenant Olyeg stated before stepping backward.
Rio wished it were so easy. It would be so nice if these fancy walls and enclosures actually allowed one to form their choice without the influence of others, but those effects were doing nothing for her. To her the choice was so obvious. She would want to leave this base. Maybe live on Anlov Home or anywhere in the Mountain Range. Certainly she didn’t want to be a part of this group full of obnoxious characters.
She was glad to be off Midin, even if it had been her home for her whole life. It was clear to her that the planet was a dump and that she was better off without it. ‘Better off without’ echoed for a bit in her thoughts. Would Rio be better off without her sister and brother? She would hope they would come with her and leave all of this nonsense behind. But she could see that Teliar was slightly enjoying himself. Clearly, the idea of building and improving the ship as it knocked about in space was one that interested him.
She didn’t recall seeing that same light in his eyes since they had arrived at the base.
Ocura would probably want to stay with Teliar. But maybe she would want to leave too. Ocura was always so protective of her and Teliar, and likely didn’t want them alone on a hazardous special mission.
Rio felt a strange sadness before she quickly whisked it away. She and her siblings had been inseparable since they were each born. Senguins were flighty and solitary creatures, so why shouldn’t Rio just leave? She might as well be heading out on her own anyway. She wasn’t sure she was old enough, but knew she was a Fire-Wing. If anyone could handle this quick change to independence, a Fire-Wing could.
Ocura and Teliar would understand, right?
“Three minutes have passed. What’s your choice?”
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“You have three minutes to consider your answer,” Lieutenant Olyeg stated before stepping backward.
Wits stood silently, tentacles slowly flowing about. She tapped her voice synthesizer to put it in standby so her thoughts could be circulated “aloud”. Around Wits, a cloud of scents and pheromones was so thick that even those who normally couldn’t detect them, could smell something faint. Wits stood silently for the duration of the time.
Wits’ mind had already been made up a long time ago, and no amount of deliberation would ever change that.
The commanders, specifically the lieutenant leaned forward, not sure if Wits was mulling about the choice to be made, or if she hadn’t heard the instruction.
Wits brushed a tentacle against the synthesizer. A quiet hum of mixed syllables and phrases were chattered before it cleared the stray sounds like a blade slicing away weeds.
“Is something wrong?” Wits asked.
“Is there?” Olyeg traded.
“I’ve already made my choice,” Wits replied.
The commanders and Olyeg leaned back. Even seasoned officers had trouble understanding the habits and actions of Hifinifs, because they were a rarity.
“What’s your choice?”
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“You have three minutes to consider your answer,” Lieutenant Olyeg stated before stepping backward.
Teliar leaned back in the seat of his legs, and ran his hands over his eyes. He tilted his head back and breathed out a loud sigh.
He hadn’t really thought about the ramifications of joining this group at all up until coming into this room. He didn’t enjoy the process he had to go through or how closely watched he had been since being first picked up. Indifference to the ordeal had been what he mostly felt, because he was just glad to leave Midin. He followed his elder sister, as she had never steered them wrong before. Since Ocura chose to give this path a try by leaving Midin, he chose to go along with her.
But now he was to choose to confirm this path independent of what she would do? How could he? How could he not? He didn’t know which she would choose, but knew he would feel safer with her. He knew Rio was more flighty and likely to want to go out on her own. Would Ocura follow her?
He leaned forward in his chair and removed his hands from his face.
Really, he didn’t much feel anything for the other crewmembers. Interaction with them seemed unnecessary up until this point; they were just there. But the ship itself actually delighted him. It brought opportunities he never would’ve had. Excitement was unavoidable when Teliar thought about how he could work with such better equipment and materials, perhaps even warp drives.
While Ocura only really got into engineering and mechanics as a way to provide for them, Teliar greatly enjoyed those pursuits of his own volition. He loved to build, deconstruct, and rebuild. He loved it more than anything. Now he would be given a chance to broaden those skills.
His thoughts returned to his sisters. Would Ocura accept or decline? Would Rio? He figured Rio would decline, but unsure how Ocura would choose. He wanted her to come along. On the other hand, maybe she should decline and be with Rio. Teliar would be safe with the Graduates and others, he figured. With his construction and repair abilities, the ship would seldom have a problem. Rio might be less safe so Ocura might go with her.
Teliar smiled. Rio had always been the independent one. Teliar figured it was time for him to take his path, regardless of his siblings.
“Three minutes have passed. What’s your choice?”
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“You have three minutes to consider your answer,” Lieutenant Olyeg stated before stepping backward.
Nuta had already considered his choice when he first left Essimiu. He had thought it over the entire way until his very footsteps that placed him in front of Pip-is, Geib, and Kazochi. Now he had new information to consider adding to what he had trouble deciding before.
Would he still get his schooling? He might as well continue to earn whatever it was he was going to end up getting. After all the tests he went through here, they were prepared to offer qualifications to pilot several different classes of vehicles. This was no doubt due to his uncanny skill level. But in regular schooling, it would take several years before he was deemed qualified as they required semesters of study that he frankly didn’t need. He couldn’t pass up those expedited results.
There was the danger and warnings but, rather insanely, Nuta was never too worried. Everyone handled themselves with tact and care. Even when Geib got himself caught on Midin, he had handled it well. If Nuta would get similar training, he was sure he would be safe.
He was sure he would be okay with all of the rules. A rebellious nature was never something he could be accused of having. He really didn’t mind any of the factors of this decision, even foolishly how complacent he was with the prospect of danger, except one glaring one.
He would be stuck there.
If he accepted, it likely wouldn’t allow him to leave at any time. While he could change his major or education on a whim, this wasn’t so malleable. If he got bored or listless, he couldn’t just try something new.
There had always had the option to change his path, but now with no option once accepting, Nuta was unsure if he should join. Could he stand being held to one avenue for the foreseeable future?
“Three minutes have passed. What’s your choice?”
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“You have three minutes to consider your answer,” Lieutenant Olyeg stated before stepping backward.
Ocura’s head had been a frenzy of thoughts, considerations, and worries smashing about.
Her voice pierced through this whirlwind of her mind.
“I need to know,” Ocura announced.
Her fists clenched at her sides as she glared towards the bottoms of the desks and podium.
“I need to know what my brother and sister chose,” she almost shouted as she looked up to face the board’s confused faces.
Lieutenant Olyeg stepped forward a bit and tilted her head slightly.
“We can’t tell you as we want you to make a decision without the influences of what others have done,” Olyeg clarified.
“That can’t be done,” Ocura protested.
She relaxed her fists only slightly, and only because she her nails had begun to puncture through her skin.
“They’re my life. I need to go where they go,” Ocura explained as her face went from glaring determination to that of near turmoil. “I‘ve been with them all their lives. I’ve protected them, provided for them, guided them, and fought for them. I’m the parent since we had none so I need to choose based on what they chose.”
One of the commanders, a Commander Nugomit Hotl leaned forward in his seat.
“If you chose based on where they go, you’d have your decision based not on your ability to serve and operate to the rules required of the Anlov Scholars,” he calmly stated. “You’d have an extraneous variable, as dehumanizing as it is to say, but an extraneous variable none the less. That variable could be swayed to have your allegiance, abilities, or integrity to be swung with it. Surely, you can understand why we don’t want you making such a choice.”
“I understand that,” Ocura stated with a hollowing voice. “I just could never be effected in that way by such a variable. By my family I mean. I’ve nothing but love for Anlov and what they do. Your own Graduate Tiwik Nargmen saved us all from a horrible future. He did it because he lived by this oath. I’ll forever be indebted to him and to the Anlov Scholars. I want to follow the same code as he did.”
“Can I at least know that they’ll be safe?” she asked. Her gaze, having slowly descended, jolted back upward.
“How do I know they’d be safe on Anlov Home or the Mountain Range? How do I know they won’t be allowed out into contested influence areas? Even your Graduate Tiwik Nargmen died or possibly worse. The other candidate that Wits took over for died too. Even your Graduates aren’t completely safe.”
The commanders all looked to each other to see who would answer the stream of questions spilled on them.
A Captain Yaku O’Mill coughed to clear his throat but had no success, so he drunk from a small glass of water. After he found his speaking voice, he addressed the questioning candidate.
“We’re saddened by the loss of both Graduate Nargmen and Graduate Wreeth. We’re investigating their cases still, and we’ll find justice for them. They did choose their locations; they each chose to go out to the border edges to conduct what work they wanted while they awaited an assignment applicable to them,” O’Mill explained. “They knew that we aren’t as able to provide protection in those areas, yet went anyway. This mission however, will have multiple Anlov Scholars together, maximizing safety.”
The rather muscular Commander Jiluminek Uas picked up from O’Mill.
“The safety is guaranteed on our Mountains and Anlov Home,” she assured. “We’ll find them safe housing, schooling, and if wanted, work. As you could see from our crime statistics that one is more likely to be struck by lightning several times in a row than be a victim of a crime in those areas. Furthermore, the case manager assigned will work with the minor to achieve goals and largely set the choices applicable to the minor. They’ll actively discourage poor choices, but will allow them to make them within reason. They won’t allow the minor to practice criminal habits, or venture too far into the edges of Anlov space.”
“Can I keep in contact with them? Whichever my choice or theirs?” Ocura interrupted.
“We certainly hope you would,” O’Mill added. “You’ll also have authority over their case manager and can issue at distant authority. They, the caseworker, will act, as you want, so long as it’s within the guidelines of ethical behavior. Contact with the ship won’t be available during active mission deployment. At any other time, it’ll be possible. If it’s an emergency, you can report to us, and we’ll relay the message as soon as we can.”
“These communications altogether will be monitored as they’re communications from our systems,” a Captain Vane added with a voice like solid granite.
Ocura breathed a sigh of relief.
“I know my choice then,” Ocura announced.
“Do you?” Admiral Ryitonem asked with a growing smile.
Ocura’s eyes twitched slightly.
“Your attachment to your siblings,” Admiral Ryitonem started. “Would it be a risk to your ability to serve? If something were to happen to them, would you be able to operate rationally, calmly, and fully according to protocol?”
Ocura felt a welling of anger at what she heard. Her fists clenched until blood seeped between her fingers.
“I’m supposed to feeling nothing if something were to happen to them?” Ocura asked with a clenched jaw.
The smile on Admiral Ryitonem grew wider. Ocura wanted to punch that smile right off of his face. How dare he smile at the thought of Ocura feelings if something happened to her siblings.
Captain O’Mill looked back and forth. He was the quickest to explain away misunderstandings.
“What the Admiral is saying is that, uh, let me restart,” O’Mill fumbled. “The Scholars aren’t expected to be emotionless or to feel nothing if something happened to someone you care for. The Admiral isn’t suggesting that.”
Commander Uas spoke up to further explain. She would often pick up when another person was finished or fumbling.
“If you were to lose someone, they were hurt, or captured, we’d be more suspicious if you felt nothing,” she clarified. “What we want to know is if you could be counted on not to operate completely out of grief or fury. We don’t want you acting in haste fueled only by emotion. One has to be calm and calculating even when a cared for one is on the line.”
She leaned forward as she saw Ocura tense up again.
“We aren’t saying we’ll do nothing if something were to happen,” she continued. “We want you to call for aid and allow planning on a more organized level. Justice, if applicable will be done.”
Ocura felt her body relax slightly. This idea was something that Tiwik Nargmen had tried several times to teach her. Each time, Ocura was resistant to it, but she needed to follow through now. We all want to protect our loved ones. If something were to happen to them, it’s easy to go into a rage or despair. Actions made in haste or inactions rationalized by hopelessness would only ever create more problems.
Her hands unclenched to show the trails of blood and cuts on her palm she dug.
This would all be the part of the mentality that Tiwik Nargmen taught her. That mentality that she wanted to be an envoy of would require this dedication to not be consumed with emotion. She would have to learn not to hold her loved ones so tight that it could hurt them. It was going to be one of the hardest things she would have to do, as her siblings were all she had.
“By taking the oath, and accepting, if that is what you wish to do,” Admiral Ryitonem stated almost cheerfully. “You are accepting with confidence that, in the event of an unfavorable event occurring to one of your siblings, you will continue to operate rationally, calmly, and according to protocol for the duration of your service.”
Ocura’s eyes twitched again as she saw that smile. She would love nothing more than to tie his lips to a vehicle and drag him around by the face. Nevertheless, sadly, this disgusting person was requiring what Tiwik Nargmen had asked of her too. To be able to continue his work, Ocura must follow that code.
“I understand,” Ocura declared.
“Then what’s your choice?” Lieutenant Olyeg asked as she stepped forward.
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Suge didn’t move or even open his eyes as chamber’s walls descended into the floor. His quills flitted back and forth, feeling the air around him. He looked up to face the board. He could see in the corners of his vision as the walls around the remaining crew members dropped. The wide wall still covered the long bench where the consenting candidates would sit.
Suge, and the others, moved as their seats and the tables in front of them shifted back together into a solid table.
“Your candidates have made their choices,” Lieutenant Olyeg announced.
Geib swallowed slowly, unsure who remained. He looked at his other Graduates. Only Kazochi and Dogot seemed to share his anticipation. Ayabegei looked bored, Suge looked emotionless as always, and Cisimi just looked distracted.
Lieutenant Olyeg’s face wasn’t surrendering a word that she knew who remained.
Her gaze traveled at the eye level across all the Graduates as she spoke.
“Of the seven candidates submitted, the number that agreed to the terms conditions and properly inducted are…,” she lead.
Though her face betrayed nothing, you could easily assume she was intentionally being dramatic as she paused, scanning the eyes of the Graduates.
The walls surrounding the waiting bench fell into the ground.
“Seven.”
Geib breathed a sigh of relief and laughed to himself. How lucky could he get? If too many had declined, they would’ve had to delay the project. Now a warmth of resolve washed through him. He had his crew.
Amongst the crew’s faces, there was a mixture. Rio was with her almost innate scowl. Pip-is looked very worried, and but was taking long deep breaths. Mahie was slowly returning to her cheerful, animated self. Ocura, Teliar, and Nuta all shared a look of slight excitement but reigned in with their best attempt to be resolved in a professional manner. And Wits was impossible to read.
“If the Specialists would take a seat at the table along with the rest of the crew,” Lieutenant Olyeg requested. “We’ll begin the briefing.”
Wits, Teliar, Nuta, Mahie, Ocura and Rio stood up and made their way back to the others. Nuta stopped to see Pip-is still sitting. He walked back and noticed a slight tremor to Pip-is’ hand.
Nuta held his hand out. Pip-is looked up to see the confident face of his friend.
“Let’s go dude,” Nuta stated.
Pip-is forced himself to laugh.
“’Dude?’ Ok, le’s go,” Pip-is exhaled, reaching his hand up to meet the one offered to him.
Nuta pulled Pip-is up to his feet and walked with him back to the table.
As the entire crew gathered again, the desire to chatter amongst themselves bubbled under the surface of most of the crew. They wanted to know how the candidates, now Specialists, made their decision.
As the bench melted into the floor, the crew kept their gaze fixed on the assembled board of officers in front of them. This board suddenly, ostensibly moved in closer to the table. In reality, it was both the segments of the floor under the board’s desks and podium, and under the Graduates and Specialists’ seats that flowed towards each other. This entire chamber was using a modular inter-moving frame system which enabled every component to be moved and shaped. Whoever installed it was making sure they were getting their money’s worth. Even with the most advanced technology, people will still naturally use it to screw around.
Admiral Ryitonem held his head facing straight forward, while looking down his nose at the Graduates and Specialists. His smile was only a slight grin on his thin face. Lieutenant Olyeg leaned behind her place in the desk, and stood up carrying enough large envelop packets to block her vision. Nonetheless, she maneuvered around the desks of both the officers and the crew. She slid out the respective packet from the tower she had leaning against herself, and landed it right in front of the correct person. She pulled from the middle of the stack, the bottom, and sometimes the top without dropping any, pausing only for a moment with each one. As she placed the last envelop in front of the last crewmember at the table, she explained as she strolled back through the gap between the two groups.
“Inside these envelops, you’ll find everything you need to document your status with the Anlov Scholars and aboard the Cardboard Box,” she explained.
They each lifted the seals and slowly pulled out the stacks of papers and documents. Even though it were a package that could typically wrap a present or awaited delivery, there was no such revelry in their inspection of the inside contents.
As they spread the pages out in front of them, many had no idea what the pages with dense chunks of lettering were even talking about. The intimidating walls of densely packed text could very well be receipts for the sale of their souls for how foreign the jargon and speech was. At every turn, reminders were given to the Specialists that they signed up for more than they realized.
“These are your general orders and operations briefings. All of these documents will be required reading. All crewmembers must have read all these documents in their entirety and complete the comprehension tests aboard the ship in the educational training system,” Olyeg detailed.
“All crew members will have needed to complete all tests at acceptable score levels before being able to deploy for your first sortie. You’ll however, remain anchored at rendezvous point E001 until all crew members are finished and then deploy from there,” she added.
The Specialists became a little lost as new jargon was thrown at them. Pip-is started to raise his hand to ask about his rendezvous point, but Geib again stopped him.
“Everything gets explained. Don’t worry,” he whispered.
“We will now address crew rank,” Admiral Ryitonem interrupted.
“The ranks of the ship will be Geib Zevtroz as acting captain with his rank of Senior Lieutenant. Ayabegei Mazoy will be second in command with her rank of Lieutenant. She will also be my representative, reporting directly to me,” he detailed.
Ayabegei could feel several eyes fall on her. She would’ve preferred it if Ryitonem hadn’t highlighted that last point.
“The remaining Graduates will all have the same rank of Junior Lieutenant. The normal ranking rules will still apply,” Ryitonem continued. “The Specialists will have the lowest rank of Ensign. They will be unable to make executive decisions regarding the mission, but can be consulted at the Graduates’ discretion. They will still answer to all higher officers of both the Anlov Scholars and Anlov military.”
“Your ranks will be effective immediately, and each will serve accordingly,” he finished.
“That brings us to your orders,” Commander Nugomit Hotl picked up as he leaned forward in his seat.
His hands interlocked, but his thumbs wiggled away. A projection was brought up between the table and the desks for each person to see. A star map and chart materialized. Spheres formed showing the various universes layers that formed metaverses that composed the Ultraverse. Metaverses were like layered spherical candies, with each layer being a universe. Three was the average number of layers, but the max found was six. Altogether, like balls on a pan, the metaverses composed the Ultraverse.
For the simplicity to understand the Ultraverse, that Anlov lied mostly in the center of known space if one was looking “down” on known space. It stretched across the second highest number of metaverses and extended into the unclaimed expanse in the south, southeast, and east directions. In a large bubble in the southwest was an isolated pocket, a metaverse that contained the Ruuthsgathga Empire.
The Ruuthsgathga was the smallest of the Ultra-Universal Spheres, kept within the inner two layers of a single metaverse. North of Anlov was the Omneewaet’teemb Federation. It had the largest area . It stretched all along Anlov’s norther border, even hung over a bit on the east border. To the northwest of Anlov was the Opportunity of Sayr with the third largest area. It stretched onward in the northwest direction, but not far. To its east was Omne, and to the south was T.U.S.C. Its border with Anlov was hazy as the most recent war pushed the majority of Anlov out of the contested metaverse on the border.
To the south-west of Anlov was the Trans-Universal Sentient Collective. It was the second smallest, and was slowly pushing further south-west. T.U.S.C.’s northern border with the Sayr Opportunity was defined by two contested metaverses between, as these were the battlefields of their near eternal war. Their eastern border with Anlov was clearly defined as neither side sought conflict with the other.
The map zoomed in on the large metaverse sphere that Anlov Home lied within and the neighboring metaverse spheres to the west. All of these spheres were safely within the defined Anlov Sphere. Bringing it in even closer, the map came between the two west spheres until it showed the very edges of their outermost universe layers. This small gap between the two spheres was actually a colossal distance. The few pixels representing this space couldn’t convey how it was more than a mind could fathom.
Enhancing further, the projection formed a split screen of the outer layers of the two metaverses. Those layers slowly, almost unperceptively, rotated. Inside the layers swam galaxies, nebulas, and the innumerable heavenly bodies that populated the cosmos. Two small circles formed on each edge of the universe layers. They were labelled “Rendezvous E001” and “Rendezvous E002”.
“When you depart from this base, you’ll wait for the escort, the cruiser Utyer class Kriovitl,to depart from Anlov Home. It’ll hail you, and then depart via Ring Jump to Rendezvous point E001. Upon meeting with the Kriovitl at E001, it’ll verify that all of your crew has completed the proficiency tests in the education chambers. It isn’t likely you’ll have all of your crew members finished by the time you arrive,” Commander Hotl detailed in a very droning voice.
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“The crew of the Cardboard Box will remain at this point until its entire crew has completed their tests. After having sent verification codes to the Kriovitl, it’ll verify all codes and depart for the black hole. It’ll warp through between the gaps to the neighboring metaverse’s outer layer. The Cardboard Box will follow behind the Kriovitl three minutes exactly, and warp through the same black hole,” Hotl continued.
Black holes, while often characterized in stories as being a giant destructive force that vacuumed in everything around it and obliterated all that entered, weren’t exactly so. Sure they were extremely bad news, but they had a use. Black holes were actually the “pores” that lined the “skin” of the universes. Traversing through them would throw the travelers into the next universe layer, or in the case of the other direction on an outer layer, launched the travelers into the massive void between metaverses. This void, these cracks between the bricks of metaverses, was very hostile to travel. A ship would need the ability to nullify physics around it and enable physics within its bubble. Since these gaps were without the physical laws that brought about the material world, it would completely de-atomize the unprotected ship. A ship would need the ability to sustain such blind and dangerous travel for a long duration to be able to safely travel between metaverses.
It was this requirement that defined Ultra-Universal Spheres. Anlov, T.U.S.C., Sayr, Omne, and Ruusgathga all possessed the technological capacity to consistently traverse between metaverses. While Ruusgathga was entirely within a single metaverse, they had shown the capacity to travel between metaverses before Anlov created a complete blockade, locking them within their current universes.
“Upon traversing the gap, the Kriovitl should arrive in the outer universe layer, and jump to Rendezvous point E002. The Cardboard Box should be three minutes behind. After it reaches the outer universe layer, it’ll also jump to Rendezvous point E002,” Hotl explained as the map now showed a similar expanse of space on in the “upper right” metaverse’s outer universe layer. A galaxy was far in the distance, with a black hole near the rendezvous point.
Near the circle marking E002, a new circle formed at the edge of a distant galaxy. It was labelled as the words “Sortie Y001” formed atop. The map zoomed into the galaxy’s arm closest to that point. A circle formed around a star lost amongst the field of stars and labeled it “Destination IJ-001-P”.
“From Rendezvous point E002, both the Kriovitl and the Cardboard Box will simultaneously engage their stealth systems, and then both jump toward Sortie point Y001. Arriving at the same time, the Cardboard Box will request final clearance from the Kriovitl,” Hotl detailed, his voice becoming a droning sound. “After final confirmation from the Kriovitl, the Cardboard Box will proceed to jump to Destination IJ-001-P. You are to investigate the anomaly detailed in your documentation.”
“This overshadowing by an escort cruiser will be part of your probationary period,” Admiral Ryitonem resumed.
His glare traced along the crew without his head moving. A menacing figure towered over them, even if the podium was fairly short. His smile and downward, condescending glare petrified the crew in his shadow.
“You will be monitored at all times by an escort cruiser. It will keep a feed on your ship’s systems including life support, security status, and structural integrity to name a few. While these systems are monitored by Anlov Home anyway, you will have the benefit of having someone follow you while recording these readings.”
Admiral Ryitonem framed the conditions of their probation like they were blessings and that the crew should be thankful that they were there. His tone could make the meekest person fill with disgust.
“You will report in to this escort before every deployment, every mission, every jump, every find, or discovery. You will request their permission before any task is undertaken that falls outside of typical protocol. This escort will answer to me and so will you,” he continued. “All of this is done anyway, but how fortunate for you that you will have someone so close requiring the same thing.”
“You will have any personal Cha Drives removed and kept here. Furthermore, your ship will not be given the most advanced equipment available to Anlov Scholar expedition ships. For example, you will not have a newer model of Ring Jump Drive, nor an advanced onboard ship AI,” he commented, words reeking of scorn.
“The AI on your ship will automatically engage lockdown procedures in the event of integrity loss, and can be controlled by the escort cruiser, and by extension, myself. I will require status updates at the end of every day. Additional status requirements are left to my discretion.”
“You will also operate on a score system,” he announced, almost gleefully. “Every violation of protocol, even in the slightest, on infiltration, stealth, minimization of interference, expense of resources, collateral damage, and speed will be recorded. These scores over a period of trial runs will determine if the program is to continue. If the scores are too low within the first trial runs, I can have the program cancelled instantly.”
He turned his head up slightly, looking straight down on the crew.
“The book marked with a green tab labeled ‘PG-NAN-Y001’ has within it all of the stipulations for probation,” Admiral Ryitonem informed.
Pip-is sifted through the green tabbed documents, and finally found the book. It was the second largest in width. While the other books and booklets had titles, this one was with only the cryptic sequence of code.
“Comprehension of these stipulations will be included in the testing you are each to complete,” Ryitonem added.
The Admiral closed his eyes and took a breath before opening them instantly, smile returning.
“Finally, we are to discuss the program itself,” he announced.
The entire crew, Graduate and Specialist alike perked up. They had waited so long, and gone through so much, that they had forgotten that they had no idea what this project was even about. Geib and Kazochi had been very tight lipped about it, which only furthered the curiosity of the others.
“Graduate Zevtroz suggested a program to the Guard Lasvic Raym,” Ryitonem began.
His voice didn’t bother to hide his dissatisfaction with the events he detailed.
“A program that had not really been too actively considered. As the Scholar mission goes, we are to explore the unexplored regions of space, study artifacts, locations, and life. We spread forth to extend, learn, create maps, and establish preserves. We study the anomalies and artifacts we find on our way, and in our wake bring Anlov’s presence.”
None of this was anything the Graduates didn’t know. While the missions of the Scholars could be described cynically as the exploration, exploitation, and pillaging of undiscovered worlds, this mission was actually the exact opposite.
Before the Mabun Embarrassment, the Scholars merely explored and watched, with only the very rare collection of artifacts or specimens. Simply bringing back documentation so that Anlov could protect those areas was enough. The Mabun changed things by exploiting worlds. They would come across worlds with powerful, undiscovered artifacts and specimens, and would then seize these finds to adapt them to military use. Life forms with special gifts were subject to horrifying scientific study to be able to unlock their biological traits to be replicated. Entities that had no idea they weren’t alone in the cosmos, sometimes excited to have these visitors, were put into a world of anguish they never could have expected.
Therefore, with the end of the Mabun Embarrassment, the Scholars adopted a new policy. Scholars would take artifacts that were determined to have a dangerous level of value if applied for military use. It’s difficult to really frame this as the positive that it was. “Take” wasn’t quite right. “Confiscate” was a bit closer, but still has a negative tone. Anlov didn’t take these objects to punish or to adapt them in military use. They merely hid them from those who would have less discretion. If the find was on an occupied and uncontacted world, Scholars would send advance warning to Anlov Home to be mindful of that technology and the cultures that possessed it.
That’s unless the item was too dangerous. To determine the danger and potential of such items, the Scholars adapted a new level of stealth operation. They would infiltrate occupied worlds using drones, internet intrusion, and rarely, stealth operatives and study artifacts while hidden. If it was deemed too dangerous, they would extract the artifact. If it wasn’t a central part of the cultures’ on the planet, they would simply remove it. If the object was a part of that culture, an identical replica was built and used to swap. The Anlov took deep respect for the cultures of life. They respected the objects and subjects of reverence of any life. However, people shouldn’t worship a device and not realize it’s a bomb that could blow up an entire planet. It should be at least disarmed, and to sit back and watch was simply irresponsible.
Keep in mind that this was truly rare. Often finds would be noted, catalogued, and left on their worlds. And a find on the level of a devastating planet killing super weapon could be counted on perhaps four hands. However, Mabun built its destructive power from the collection of nearly a hundred different small finds. And a few finds counted on the aforementioned hands.
“The Anlov Scholars are to safely protect all of the cosmos within our Sphere and to study the various anomalies we encounter, but we have apparently been remiss in studying anomalies locally,” Admiral Ryitonem continued, almost dejectedly. “Even though we have countless research stations operated by Scholars and other Anlov groups to study the finds we have located, from weather, cosmic, physics, artifacts, or anything and everything else. We have apparently neglected the possible anomalies beneath our feet.”
Ayabegei’s face reflected the most confusion. Her eyebrows arched and she itched the side of her head. The Graduates were unsure where the Admiral was going with this.
“It is this Novelties Within program that serves to address this issue,” Ryitonem almost spat. “This ship and its crew are commissioned with the task of locating missed finds within the Anlov Sphere, specifically, within the Mountain Range.”
Now Ayabegei’s eyes widened in distress. What more was there to explore? The Mountain Range, the interconnecting web of settlements, cities, habitats, and worlds that crisscrossed the Anlov Sphere were the most thoroughly researched and explored areas. It was where the Anlov peoples made their homes, where the most travel inter-universal travel was done, and where the Anlov military maintained a stabilizing presence. That’s precisely why these areas were as safe as they were. Scholars studied the frontiers, the veinlets of the leaf, not the veins themselves.
“You will operate by default as though you were an expedition mission, but simply within established borders,” the Admiral explained. “You will have an added parameter of exploring and investigating anomalies reported by residents and citizens within Anlov borders. A supporting team here at Anlov Home will gather intel on what could be the most credible reports and not just the ramblings or hallucinations of a madman. The Cardboard Box and its crew will be sent to investigate these occurrences.”
Ayabegei couldn’t restrain herself any longer. While she didn’t blurt out as she had that much respect, she slowly raised her hand even though it wasn’t a designated question period.
“Graduate Mazoy?” Ryitonem acknowledged.
Ayabegei carefully measured out what she would say, but wanted to make sure her displeasure was noted.
“We are to investigate the paranormal?” she asked with a touch of annoyance in her voice.
“If necessary. But likely,” the Admiral admitted, with a matching annoyance in his voice, likely in agreement.
Ayabegei leaned back in her chair, fixed her gaze down, laughed silently, and shook her head.
The others were still working through the details. No one else seemed to have as much of a reaction as Ayabegei. Suge and Cisimi were a bit confused why their talents would be spent on something so unlikely to be fruitful. Ocura and Pip-is were relieved that their missions would be less dangerous since they were to remain in established borders.
“Since you will not be outside of the designated territory, you will not need a full crew or the most advanced ship. Nevertheless, you will still be expected to operate on par with your peers in their missions,” Ryitonem continued. “Your mission details are cataloged in their entirety in the green tabbed booklet labeled ‘Project Parameters.’ Though this project was approved, it was approved barely. That same precariousness will be seen throughout the evaluation of this project, and you will do everything you can, within your power, to make sure the approval remains.”
Though Admiral Ryitonem Izkuio was addressing the entirety of the crew, his unwavering eyes fixed directly upon Geib.
————————————–
The crew entered the Cardboard Box one at a time after going through one last security checkpoint. They dragged themselves sluggishly through the movements. Their shoulder’s sagged and their footsteps were heavy. While they were each excited to leave the base, they were simply too beaten down to show that excitement. Even when the last crewmember stepped through the hatch, the rest of the crew loitered against the walls of the connecting hallway. The hatch sealed and vented air. This sigh of the ship spoke for the crew as they stood back up straight.
“We have our rooms assigned to us per my recommendation,” Geib yawned as he stretched his arms out to the side. “Set up, get dressed, and shower if you want.”
He tilted his neck to either side to work out some kinks. His yawning was becoming infectious as others started doing the same.
“Reference these maps to get to where you need to be,” he stated as he handed out pages to each crewmember. “Do what else you need to, but report to the bridge in thirty minutes.”
He leaned over his luggage that had been left by the base personnel and pressed one of its sides. It floated off the ground and a handle deployed upward into his waiting hand.
“Dismissed.”
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Geib turned around as he heard the door to the bridge slide open. Pride and confidence glowed on his face as his entire crew stepped onto the bridge. Each crewmember was dressed in Anlov Scholar uniforms. They were pressed, folded, and immaculately clean. Each uniform was uniquely shaped for each species and dimension of the crewmember who wore it. Wits’ uniform covered her massive legs and had thin mesh netting around her body to allow her to communicate and interpret pheromones. The Senguins uniforms were shaped to accommodate their double-jointed legs and feathers. Suge had small openings along his shoulders to let his quills move through. Cisimi’s uniform had separate sleeves in the front for her torso for her lower arms that she kept tucked in. Also, there were elastic segments throughout to enable the full range of motion she needed. Mahie’s uniform was several sizes too large, but had adhesive strips to bind up the excess cloth.
Geib grinned as he scanned over his crew in their personally tailored uniforms. He was thrilled to have these people’s great skills and prowess coated in such beautiful shells.
“Was there something else we were supposed to do or did you just want to stand there looking stupid?” Rio finally asked aloud.
Geib laughed slightly. He knew he must’ve looked pretty ridiculous.
“Crew of the Cardboard Box,” Geib began. “I can’t tell you how delighted I am that you’re serving with me on this mission. I’m aware the circumstances aren’t the greatest, but I’m confident that we can show that this mission and idea is worthwhile. I’m sure that none of you’ll let me, yourselves, or Anlov down. I chose who I thought would be the best, and I think I made the right choices.”
He again smiled as he viewed his crew. Never had he imagined his idea would be so well received that he would get his own crew, ship, and mission. He had the saving grace of fortune to thank most of all.
“I, and I hope that you’ll follow suit, will never give Anlov an excuse to put this project to an end. Luck filled in our rough edges, and we’ll harden enough that we won’t need that putty anymore,” Geib stated.
Once more he stopped to beam at his crew.
“I’m no good at these dramatic speech things. I never thought I’d need to give one or that I’d have the right words right when I needed them. But that was all that I needed to say,” he commented.
He approached the crew and held out his hand. The others formed a semi-circle around him. In his hand he held a data pad.
“Awaiting final crew status,” came a voice from the pad.
“We’re sending it now,” Geib answered to the crew in the hangar control room.
Geib looked at each of his crewmembers in the eyes. He barely restrained his excitement. He wanted to scream and holler, but forced every particle of himself to be calm.
“Each of you presses your thumb, or tentacle, whatever, on this pad, declare your name and rank, and announce that you’re present,” he explained.
He placed his own thumb against the screen, and declared aloud, almost like a séance to an invisible force.
“Geib Zevtroz, Anlov Scholar Graduate, Lieutenant Junior Grade. Present aboard the Cardboard Box.”
His name, rank, and print appeared in small print in the corner of the screen.
Geib removed his thumb, and held out the data pad to his other crewmembers one at a time. They each listed their name, rank, and location aloud while pressing their digit to the pad. As stated, it could easily be seen as a séance to one who had no idea what they were doing. Here they were, speaking their names into the air while placing their hands upon a slab. Maybe it was more like an order of clerics or warriors, swearing allegiance as they placed their mark upon a page that would live on as a noble binding document.
As the last crewmember announced themselves, the data pad transmitted the code back to the hangar control team. Again, Geib delighted in the presence of his crew. Here they shared a moment. He wondered if anyone else thought of it in the same level of grandeur as he did.
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The Cardboard Box floated noiselessly in the vacuum of space. Kazochi, Ayabegei, Geib, and Suge sat on the bridge at various stations. They each silently kept to themselves leaving only the ambient sounds to fill the room. Each had a different green tabbed book or booklet in their hands, studying the contents.
Cisimi stepped in through the bridge’s door. Her body regularly twitched or tweaked randomly, regardless of whether position she was in. It was likely still arthropod instinct. It was never overt enough to disrupt the area around her, but was just enough to notice easily.
Geib looked up from his booklet, and reclined backwards in his seat until he could see backwards, but upside down.
“How are the other students? All studying I presume?” Geib inquired.
Even as she spoke, her head tilted about randomly and subtly.
“Yes. From what last I saw,” she replied as she took a seat and drew a green tabbed book out of her pack to start studying. “Specialist Odeylum and Lyr are even taking some of the tests in the education suite.”
Geib spun around his seat so that he could get as many of the other crew in his vision. He maintained his exaggerated reclined position and backward facing, upside down vision.
“Pretty impressive, aren’t they?” he asked of the others rhetorically.
“That reminds me,” Ayabegei started as she closed her booklet, and swept her hanging hair from her face. “I wanted to ask how you even knew your old friends would even be talented or skilled enough to join this mission. You had not seen them since childhood. Were you going to let them join, even if they were not skilled enough?”
Geib sat back up and turned around to face her.
“While it was a childhood promise that made me consider them, I did make sure they were even remotely skilled enough to perform. While they were both incredible bright and talented from what I remember, you’re right, I wouldn’t know if they still were,” Geib explained, eyes occasionally diverting to recall events.
“But I looked them up when the Novelties Within program was just starting to be planned. I honestly expected them to be nowhere near good enough to serve as a temporary Specialist. When I saw local news reports of their skills when they were applied, looked up test results, and the results of their work, I knew they had incredible talent. They were good enough to be the standard of how Specialists are to be.”
Geib sighed and beamed childishly.
“I remember seeing those results, and feeling sure that they’d be included. I was so lucky I could fulfill a promise that I simply had no place to make. How many promises do we make as kids that are simply unrealistic? When I saw their skills, knew I could keep that promise, and even had my idea taken up by the Guard…. I just felt like it was all meant to be.”
Ayabegei scoffed and reopened her book.
“We found our first anomaly: the fool with incredible luck,” she dismissed as she resumed her studying.
“You’re right. I’m very lucky,” Geib shrugged. “I even got a convenient arch-nemesis on my crew.”
Ayabegei’s eyes looked up, while her head was still tilted down. She shook her head and rolled her eyes.
Cisimi head swiveled a bit.
“Is such uncivil discourse going to be the norm?” Cisimi asked. “Is that even healthy or conducive to mission?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Suge stated quietly. “They’re merely bantering.”
Suge’s quills could detect micro-movements through the air, including the microscopic body language of those around him. He felt no genuine hostility between Ayabegei and Geib.
“If you’re sure,” Cisimi commented, uncertain of Suge’s observation.
Suge nodded.
“We have a transmission from the Kriovitl,” Kazochi announced. “Patching it through?”
“I got it,” Geib commented as he stood up and pressed a switch at the comm station.
A holographic projection materialized of a screen showing the captain of the Kriovitl. The captain looked upon the entire bridge of the Cardboard Box. She also looked to someone off screen, and nodded to them.
“I’m Captain Tsuka Ot Melina of the Kriovitl,” the captain announced, turning back to face the Cardboard Box’s crew.
“We’re just now leaving the atmosphere and will be arriving at the travel-safe-distance within two minutes. We’ll link with you before departing for Rendezvous point E001.”
“Understood Captain Melina,” Geib replied with starched behavior and formality.
He was a very polar person. He could go from familiar comradery to orderly officer in the flash of a synapse.
“We’ll have the crew ready to receive final linking and coding,” he added as he saluted crisply.
Captain Melina nodded and cut the transmission.
Geib pressed the comm switch to address the entire ship.
“All Graduates to your positions. Specialists, resume your studies and testing. We’ll be departing shortly for Rendezvous E001,” he announced over a ship-wide comm.
“I’m on my way,” Dogot replied.
“I‘m almost done with my flight finalization,” Nuta stated over the comm. “Can I take us out?”
“Almost?” Geib asked. “I could ‘almost’ say yes to that. Not until you’ve finished everything.”
Nuta feigned a frustrated grumble. “I’ll be done in time for the next flight.”
Dogot entered the bridge and took his seat at the communications station. Suge stepped into the defenses station, Cisimi went to the status and logistics station, Kazochi to the navigation station, and Ayabegei climbed into the pilot’s seat. Geib felt uneasy sitting in the commander’s station. He preferred to be doing something more involved, but this was where he was to be. This ship and this mission is where he was to be.
The surround monitors of the bridge displayed a single distant spot approach from a far portion of the Ring. Across the vast distance from the Cardboard Box to that single light, it came flying at them with unbelievable speed. It invoked just as much trepidation as watching a thrown object approach your face.
Its size became quickly apparent as it reached half the distance between when it was first seen. It dwarfed many of the ships that buzzed around it, including the same model of ship the Rarbe was, but moved faster than the infinitely smaller ships.
Anyone other than Graduates, military, or those familiar with space travel, would feel themselves digging their fingers into hand rests, lock your feet into the ground, or clench your jaw as the Kriovitl flew right towards the comparatively tiny Cardboard Box. The Kriovitl’s speed didn’t let up even in the slightest as it arched slightly away. With a stop so sudden that it would’ve destroyed the craft without shielding, the Kriovitl parked itself only a kilometer away. There was no wind or air in space, but such an approach from a vehicle almost made you feel a breeze smash across you like it would in an atmosphere.
“This is the Kriovitl reporting,” Captain Melina informed over a comm channel. “Transmit final coding and confirmation for deployment.”
“Trading with you now,” Dogot confirmed as he worked his station’s keys like it were second nature.
“We have flight coordinates now,” Kazochi announced.
“Trade completed,” Captain Melina confirmed. “We’ll move to a safe distance and deploy. Set timer for three minutes after we leave the system.”
“Yes Captain,” Geib replied. His knees shook in excitement.
The crew of the Cardboard Box had to crane their necks all the way up and still couldn’t see the top of the Kriovitl. They followed as the ship flew past them. A bright, golden glow surrounded the enormity of the Kriovitl, forming a sphere around it.
In a flash, the sphere was gone, and so went the Kriovitl.
With a voice from a body just hiding every bit of excitement, Geib ordered, “Set timer for three minutes now. Lieutenant Mazoy, take us out on Ring Jump at its expiration.”
“Set and ready,” she replied as she readied to jump.
The Cardboard Box drifted in space; silence being the bow that bound such anticipation. The single drifting seed of possibility in a vast ocean of potential.
That seed, when its time came, vanished in a golden flash onward to its first voyage.
Anlov Record 