Meetings of comrades
#9 of The Odds Against
Alrighty, here we go, another chapter of the Odds Against. I kinda felt like I had been neglecting this story line recently, so I hope you enjoy this story.
As always, comments are appreciated and requested.
Continued from "A Few New Problems..."
11-04-3015
Time Index; 1534 hours GST
Asgard Industries prototype development facility
Asgard system, Terran space
"Sir, you still have to sign off on the 7th fleet's supply requisitions," Major Chase said, following me as I strode along the corridor. Chase was my S-1, the records officer, and the most clerk-like of all my staff members. He had been pestering me for a day and a half to finish the paperwork that had arrived while I had been in meetings. For the most part, Dillinger had been successful in heading him off, but I had sent Dillinger off to rest half an hour ago, since he had nearly fallen asleep on his computer pad while we had been eating in the officer's mess. And, like clockwork, the moment my adjutant was out of contact, Chase had turned up. I continued my walk down the corridor, ignoring him for the moment. I was dressed once again in my battle armor, and I was almost to the hanger where the Tartarus prototypes were stored and then I wouldn't have to deal with staff duties for a few hours. "Not to mention the replacement rosters for the 11th, 14th and 20th Tactical Fighter Wings."
"Major, they can wait until I get back." I replied, rounding a corner and spying the door to the hanger at the end of the corridor. I picked up my pace a little, making Chase increase his speed as well.
"But sir, the General staff is still waiting on the report about fighter production, as well as your report on the performance of the fleet fighter commanders." He protested, following me out into the hanger. I rolled my eyes, a motion hidden by the visor of my helmet and headed for the nearest prototype, beside which the head test pilot stood. He was a marine captain whose name escaped me, but he had volunteered his personal ship for me to test. Holding up a hand to cut off Chase, I walked up to the pilot, who saluted me.
"She is all fueled up and fully operational, sir." He reported as I returned the salute. "The navy has been kind enough to set up a test course starting in the upper atmosphere and going out about 2 Au's, beyond the outer shipyards. Our temporary squadron call sign is Tango flight, sir."
"Thank you captain." I replied and he stepped aside so I could climb up the ladder to the cockpit. As I settled into the cockpit's seat, Major Chase climbed up the ladder behind me, extending a computer pad as he did so.
"Sir, if you will just look at this..." he began but I pushed the pad away.
"Major, I will be returning by 1900 hours," I said, tapping the control to power up the ship. "I promise I will deal with it when I get back. I am sure that nothing horrible will happen if I don't look at it until I get back."
"Yes sir." Chase said with a sigh, climbing back down the ladder as the canopy came down and sealed to the fuselage. Grinning beneath my helmet, I made sure that every system was active and in the green before I powered the engines. As the familiar whine of fighter engines filled the cockpit, I clicked the communications system over to the control frequency.
"Asgard control, this is Tango one, requesting permission to launch." I said, familiarizing myself with the rest of the controls as I did so. The fighter was currently in the 'Raider' configuration, meaning it was equipped to handle both fighter and capital ship threats. But even in that configuration, the controls were not all that different from the Scorpion interceptors that I was used to.
"Tango one, you are cleared to launch." The controller replied, sounding bored. Smiling once more, I punched the throttles full forward, the grin widening as inertia pushed me back into my seat, despite the inertial dampeners that were built into the system. The fighter shot forward swiftly, the hanger and launch tube outside my fighter becoming nothing more than a blur. The moment I was out, I guided the fighter towards the nav point displayed on the HUD, marking the beginning of the test course.
"Alright, let's see what this baby can do." I said to myself, unable to suppress the grin that had spread across my features...
***
11-04-3015
Time Index; 1600 hours GST
MAS Carrier Yunius
Colyon system, Merxian space
Katy stood on the bridge of her carrier, watching the grey bulk of another space station come into view. The last day had been a trying experience to be sure. She had looked up Kos's duty assignment onboard the Yunius and it turned out he was the head of the marine security detachment, which meant that he had an excuse to go just about everywhere onboard ship, as long as he recorded his reasons in his log. Which meant that although her private comm. suite was operational, she couldn't chance actually using the hyperlink chip yet. She had run into him several times already while going about her routine, and while she didn't want to feel paranoid, she was beginning to suspect he was trying to run into her as often as he could. She had even contemplated putting a request for his transfer, but she would have to give a good reason, and she didn't have evidence beside her feelings that he was following her yet.
Still, the next few days were going to be good. The Yunius was headed for the station to rendezvous with another ship carrying replacement pilots and more supplies. But while those were being transferred, everyone on board that didn't have duty could go aboard the station. It was a rare treat, because Colyon Prime station was not a military post. Far from it in fact. It was a civilian station, and what was more, it had three whole decks devoted to catering to visiting military personnel. Those decks were packed with creature comforts that were not available on any military station. As the bridge crew went through docking procedures, she controlled her pleasure at the prospects of the station. Since she was technically the battle group commander, she therefore was supposed to maintain a serious demeanor. It wasn't that hard actually. All she had to do was remember Kos' record and all cheer would leave her mind.
She had read his full service file after the incident in the gym and it was not promising. Despite having served on combat duty for eleven years now, he was only a Captain. It was not because he hadn't earned promotions. The records showed that he was a fierce fighter, almost recklessly brave. He had been well decorated for his performance in battle. No, he was only a Captain because he had been reprimanded on multiple occasions for various offenses. The offenses had ranged from insubordination to striking a superior officer. The latter charge had resulted in him being demoted from first sergeant down to sergeant, which had taken him years to overcome. In peace time, he would have been cashiered from the marines by now, tossed out on his tail. But with the war on, the marines couldn't afford to lose a soldier with his combat record. It also turned out that he had been stuck at Captain for four years, his performance reports lackluster at best. He worried her even more now, so much so that she had taken to carrying her sidearm everywhere. She disliked being comforted by the presence of her weapon while onboard ship, but she couldn't think of a way to get rid of him yet.
Shaking her head and chasing the dark thoughts from her mind, she turned her attentions back to the station that now took up the entire view screen. The ship was almost through with docking procedures and she nodded to the Yunius' captain before turning and walking off the bridge, heading towards her quarters. As much as she hated the idea, everybody except for MPs had to go on pass unarmed, since it cut down on violent incidents. Still though, even without her weapon, she had her psychic powers, a weapon that no one could see and few, if any, could match. Once she was disarmed, she walked to the airlock, slinging a small satchel over one shoulder. Inside were a few computer pads containing more communications data, a novel she was reading, and her special comlink. The airlock was already open when she got there, a steady stream of naval ratings and marines already leaving the ship for some R and R. She joined the throng, making her way forward slowly until she was near to the airlock itself. But, just as she got to the entry way, Kos emerged from the slow moving crowd, stepping up to it as well. From the surprised look on his face, she gathered that he had not expected to see her here, so at least he wasn't following her this time. There was the barest moment of awkward silence between them, then he nodded to her.
"General." He said, allowing her to go first. She did so, readying her powers if he did anything. It wasn't a likely event, them being surrounded by other soldiers, but it was always possible. However, he did nothing of the sort, proceeding to ignore her as they walked onto the station. When they got on board, she watched him out of the corner of her eye, but he walked in the opposite direction she did, greeting another wolf, a civilian dressed in the oil stained coveralls of a mechanic. They walked off together, not even looking in her direction. She didn't know why, but his seeming indifference worried her more than his stalker-like attentions did. Shaking off the feeling, Katy headed for a nearby restaurant, intending to get some nice food for a change, Kos and the mechanic already fading into the back of her mind...
***
11-04-3015
Time Index; 1713 hours GST
TFFC Tartarus class Raider Tango One
Asgard system, Terran space
"Prometheus control, this is Tango One, requesting permission to dock." I said into my mike. I was feeling exhilarated, much happier than I had been all month. The test course I had run through had ranged from tests of maneuverability, to battles with drone fighters, to a small space platform with remote guns that mimicked a capital ship. In every single test, the Tartarus had exceeded my expectations. Despite carrying the munitions payload of a Scimitar Light Bomber, it was even faster and more maneuverable than the Scorpion. And if the simulated damage that I had allowed to happen to my ship was any indication, it was also superbly tough. I was almost completely sold on the design. Before I made my final choice, I wanted to test the fighter's jump drive and Hypercom system, but I didn't have the time for that just yet. Even if they didn't perform to expectations, the fighter would be a welcome addition to any fleet.
"Tango One, Prometheus station is restricted to Beta clearance and higher." The controller said, his voice having a scratchiness to it that I associated with a lifelong smoker. "Transmit your clearance code now or stand down for security search and seizure."
"Clearance on the way, control." I replied passing my hand over the scanner mounted in the com unit. It beeped confirmation and sent my clearance code on its way. A few moments later, the controller's voice came back, sounding surprised.
"Clearance confirmed." He said. "You are cleared to dock in bay 12. Welcome to Prometheus, General."
"Thank you control," I replied, smiling to myself once more. "Tango One out."
A nav point appeared on my HUD and I guided the fighter towards it with a gentle hand. Prometheus station was technically a shipyard, in the sense that it built capital ships, but it was unique for several reasons. For one thing, it was out in the middle of nowhere, not huddled around a planet like the rest of the shipyards in the Asgard system. Also, it was restricted to Beta clearance, a security rating that was reserved for flag officers and members of the military on special assignment. Finally, it was closely protected by its own group of defense stations, complete with a fighter wing and a battalion of Marines. Prometheus was the place where the navy built prototype capital ships, and where the failed designs, those that survived the testing process at any rate, were stored.
I smiled to myself at the memory of the surprise in the controller's voice as I guided my fighter into the small docking bay. When I had been promoted, I had been given Alpha clearance by the Commandant, a level of clearance reserved for ranking flag officers. The only level higher was High Command Eyes Only, which only members of High Command ever got. Alpha was rare enough, and it meant that I could go anywhere on any base in the Federation, which was certainly handy. Shaking myself from my thoughts, I guided my fighter towards the landing pad a mechanic was indicating and then shut down the fighter's systems. Removing my helmet, I climbed down the ladder another mechanic wheeled into place and then waited while an officer walked up from where he had been waiting against the wall. He was a navy lieutenant, clad in armor and he seemed awfully young to be posted to such a secure facility.
"Welcome aboard General." He said, saluting me. I returned his salute after I clipped the helmet to my belt and he motioned for me to follow him. "We have been expecting you. This way please." The young officer led the way through the station's innards, through three different security checkpoints, where I was scrutinized again and again by computer scanners and heavily armed MPs, and finally to an airlock door leading into one of the massive hollow chambers where ships were built and stored. The lieutenant led the way inside and then spoke again at last. "The area beyond these doors is in zero gravity General, so please, take the opportunity to prepare yourself." I nodded to him and tapped the control on my belt that magnetized my boots, then waited a few heartbeats while my armor complied.
As soon as my boots froze to the deck, the lieutenant tapped a control, and the artificial gravity of the airlock faded to zero. I had never much cared for zero gravity, as it was hard to get used to, and even harder to fight in, especially in hand to hand. My discomfort had started back in Special Ops training, when we had had to fight a simulated zero gravity boarding action against a station much like this one, and I had been among the many trainees who had thrown up during the experience. Ever since, when I went into zero gravity zones, it set my stomach churning. I had gotten used to it over the years, but it still made me uncomfortable. But, when the door before us opened, I forgot all about my discomfort. Walking out onto an observation platform high above the floor of the bay, I was struck dumb by the sight before me.
In the massive work bay was a ship, but a ship more magnificent than any I had ever seen before. It was obviously a military vessel, as weapon batteries were clearly evident on its hull and it had several large launch bays, but unlike most other warships which were blocky affairs designed without allowances for such small considerations as aesthetics, this ship had lines that were even more graceful than a luxury liner. Its hull was so smooth and shaped so that it almost looked organic, as if it had been grown rather than built. Its hull was pure and shining, unblemished, without the marks and discolorations most ships accumulated traveling through space. Somehow, it managed to look both graceful and deadly, like a tiger or leopard from old earth. To a soldier's eye, there was no other word for it. It was beautiful. I was so entranced by it that I didn't notice the other armor clad man that had joined us until he spoke, startling me into turning.
"You like it, I take it?" he asked and I whirled around as quickly as my magnetized boots would let me. His voice was familiar, and when I saw his face, I grinned. "Good to see you again Knight."
"Pride!!" I cried, drawing the man into a backslapping hug. Lieutenant Colonel Mychael Prydwen was a native of Celdania, and he certainly looked it. He was red haired, with bright green eyes, and very freckly. When we had first met, he had been a part of the famous Black Watch regiment, an elite Special Forces unit made up exclusively by Celdanians. It had a long and glorious history, with traditions going all the way back to ancient Terra. The unit was also considered a little odd by the rest of the galaxy, for two reasons. One was that the Black Watch recruited from both the navy and the marines, creating an interesting mixed command structure that none the less seemed to work well. The second was that their dress uniform didn't have pants.
Instead, they wore kilts, their tartan pattern the dark green, dark blue and black that the regiment had made so famous in ancient wars. Their unit band also included bagpipers, a very odd sounding instrument which, I had to admit, I actually liked. Once you got used to it, it got into your heart and lifted the spirit quite nicely. We had met during my second campaign as a Starwolf, back when we were both noncoms. Our units had worked together during a planetary assault and we had ended up sharing a foxhole for about a day while we defended against a counter attack. Later, we both had been recruited for the Leviathan teams, and he had been one of the members of my team. We had become good friends during that year, though in the years since, we had kinda lost touch. When we pulled back from the hug, he stepped up beside me, standing at the rail of the observation platform and looked out at the ship once more.
"I thought you would like her." He said. "When I heard you had taken command of the marine's fighter corps, congratulations by the way, I immediately suggested to my superiors that you should be brought here. This ship is right up your alley."
"How so?" I asked and he smiled.
"Imagine if you will, a capital ship the size of a heavy cruiser that can maneuver like a corvette, deliver the firepower of a battleship, and carry a wing of fighters, all the while acting like a fleet command ship." He said and I looked at him with my eyebrows raised. Such a ship would be a very deadly opponent, able to zip in and out of enemy formations, devastating just about everything in its path. "Knight, my old friend, such a ship lies before you. I give you, the Zephyr. And, if you like it enough, it is all yours..."
***
11-05-3015
Time Index; 1144 hours GST
Colyon Prime station
Colyon system, Merxian space
Katy sat a small table outside of a café on the main promenade, enjoying a rare delicacy. A cup of real Terran coffee, a brew made from beans brought all the way from Terra itself. That was one thing that the Merxians were almost universally jealous of the Terrans for. Nothing even close to coffee plants could be found in Merxian space and the Terrans had been rather stingy about trading live plants. They had, however, been more than happy to sell the fermented beans. The drink had rapidly become one of the major imports from the Federation, as sought after as platinum in some places. Since the war started, it had become a very rare thing to find anywhere. Now, the only places one could get it were the black market, or on occupied worlds where the plant flourished. Or, in the case of this particular café, located on the edge of Merxian space, stockpiles of beans that had almost been given a vintage year because of their rarity. The price for a single cup had been exorbitant, but she didn't mind paying it. After all, a General's pay was very good, and it wasn't like there were many places to spend it on board ship.
Taking another sip from the steamy cup, the vixen General looked back at the novel she was reading, savoring the flavor of every drop that she drunk. Sighing slightly, she put the mug back down and thought about what a disappointment this weekend had been so far. To be sure, the dinner she had had last night was delightful, and the serving staff of the station had been very friendly and accommodating, but she had not enjoyed the stay as much as she had in the past. She knew at once what it was that kept her from relaxing as she once had. She would have liked to have believed that it was this whole business with the Conclave, but she knew that wasn't it. The truth was, she missed her mate. It wasn't so much that she missed the intimate moments they had shared during their stint on Arc 4, but other things that she found herself missing. She missed his smile, missed his easy kindness, his laugh, his scent. She even missed the scars that decorated his body. The psychic link that connected them was a very poor substitute for his presence. It felt like little more than a shadow compared to a real person. She had tried to keep her mind off of it, hence the novel and the expensive coffee. Still, she was lonely and not having the exhausting pace of work to distract her only served to bring the feeling out into the open.
"Is this seat taken?" A voice asked and she looked up at the speaker. He was a canine, a coyote judging by the dusty color of his fur and the shape of his ears. He was wearing arctic camouflage patterned Special Forces armor with the insignia of the Merxian marines on it; the symbol sometimes called the Soaring Phoenix, because it looked like a bird with its wings spread upward above its head. His shoulders bore the gold four pointed star of a Colonel and she thought it odd that he would come over to her at all, much less ask to sit down. She was about to tell him that it was indeed taken, or that she didn't want company, but then her eyes tracked over his face once more. There was something about him that was familiar, something she couldn't quite place. Then it hit her.
"Tyr?" She asked, staring at him in surprise. He smiled and nodded and then pulled out the chair and sat down across from her. "What are you doing here?"
"That's it?" he asked, a smile creasing his face. "That is all you have to say?" When she stammered he grinned broadly at her. "I am just kidding you. How have you been Katy?"
"I have been fine." She replied, forcing her voice to work once more. "And yourself?"
Tyr was one of the last people she had expected to run into. They had been new lieutenants together back in the 16th PAI battalion, the unit she had been a part of before she transferred to the pilot corps. They had been assigned to the same company, and thought they had been at odds at first, they had gradually become friends, and occasionally, more than that. They had had sex a few times over the years they had known each other, minor flings that were more a release of stress than anything else. Though he had sometimes hinted that he wanted to make their relationship more permanent early on, they had both decided that it would be better if they remained just friends. He had stayed in the PAI when she had transferred out to become a pilot, but they had met up a few times since then, usually when on leave. He had always been a good man, and the last time she had seen him, they had both been majors.
"About the same." He replied, signaling the server to come over. "What are we drinking?"
"Sumatran blend." Katy replied, speaking more to the waiter than to Tyr. He nodded and went off to get the coffee pot. "But seriously, what are you doing here?"
"I'm the CO of the Turlion Rangers and we stopped in here to rendezvous with a ship carrying replacements." He answered. "I have to say, I never expected to run into you here. And as a General 4th Rank no less. Congratulations."
"Thank you." Katy replied, giving no more thought to her novel. "How long are you on the station for?"
"A couple of days. My unit was just pulled off the line on Arctni Seven, so we are headed for refit." He said, taking a mug off the server's tray and sipping its contents. "Why do you ask? Wow, that is good coffee."
"Oh, I was feeling lonely and I needed some company." Katy replied, giving no heed to what she had just said.
"Really? Well, that is certainly a sudden proposal. My quarters or yours?" He asked, his eye brows raising. Katy looked at him in confusion for a moment, then her eyes went wide.
"Oh, not like that!" She exclaimed, alarmed. "I meant I wanted a friend to spend some time with."
"Oh." He said, seeming both relieved and a little disappointed. "I understand."
"I don't think you do." Katy began, gently taking his hand. "You see, recently, I found someone. Someone very special."
"That explains it then." Tyr replied, smiling at her. At his questioning look, he continued. "I thought you scented different. Now I know why. I am happy for you. Really I am. It is rare to find one's mate during a war."
"Thank you." She said again. She was about to continue talking when Tyr's comlink beeped for attention. Sighing, he dragged it out of his belt.
"I swear, it never ends." He said, making Katy smile, and activated the small device. "Yes?"
"Colonel, there is an urgent message for you holding on a secure channel." The disembodied voice of another male said, emanating from the speaker on the comlink.
"Be right there." Tyr replied, then let out a sigh. He drained his coffee in one smooth draft, then stood. "Well, that didn't last long."
"Why don't we meet up for dinner tonight?" Katy asked, smiling at her friend. "Say around 1800?"
"I would like that." He replied. "Alright, see you then." With that, her friend merged with the traffic of soldiers and civilians walking by the café and was gone. Smiling, Katy picked up her novel once more. It was certainly a pleasant surprise to see Tyr again. As she went back to reading, a sudden thought struck her. In the past week, she had managed to run into the last two people she had had relationships with before her mate, even though she had seen neither of them in at least a few years. And, while one had been significantly less than welcome, the other was always nice to see. Still grinning softly, she finished off the last of her cup and signaled the waiter for a refill. 'What an odd coincidence.' She thought while the waiter filled her mug. She drew in a deep breath of the vapors coming from the cup and sighed in satisfaction at the slight differences in scent. That was another thing she liked about Terran coffee. No two cups were exactly the same.
Katy was about half way through her second cup of coffee when a sudden feeling of foreboding overcame her. She knew at once that it was a psychic warning, but even as she felt it, she knew that something much more pressing was wrong. The feeling was gone again, but it had not vanished with the gradual fading that such warnings always left with. It had vanished in an instant, as if it had been suddenly blocked from her perception by a wall. Her natural psychic senses were fading, the perception of the intents of the people around her leaving her, making her feel naked. Worst of all, she couldn't feel her love anymore. The awareness that all psychics lived with was suddenly gone. She felt as if she were blind, or deaf, one whole sense cut off totally. Frantically, she reached out for her coffee cup with her mind, trying to raise it off the table. But the cup didn't so much as twitch. Frantic, she rose to her feet, sweeping her novel into her satchel and intending to head back to the Yunius' infirmary, but, the moment she rose but a little way off the chair, a sudden wave of dizziness blanketed her mind.
Her vision became blurry and she stumbled into the crowd, unable to make sense of what was happening to her. She managed to stumble on for a few more paces before she felt herself starting to fall. But she didn't hit the ground. Instead, she dimly felt someone catch her, supporting her. Her first thought was to thank the person, but her voice didn't seem to be working. She felt a second person take her other side and whoever it was began to carry her along. She was barely able to walk and she could only see dim impressions of the world around her, but they were enough. Horror began to grow in her mind, making her struggle against the weakness that was rapidly taking her over. They were taking her the wrong way, further into the station, away from the ship that was her home. She saw the crowd gradually thin out, and the noise of the heavily inhabited parts of the station fade away. Then she saw a corridor around her, but she was barely able to discern any details. All at once, everything became a dim grey and she could feel herself fading away. The last thing she was aware of was a voice calling for her in the distance, or at least it seemed to be one. And then that too faded away...
***
11-05-3015
Time Index; 1144 hours GST
Visiting officer's quarters
Asgard system, Terran system
"Sir, these are the reports that you asked for." Major Chase said, setting a stack of data pads on the desk before me.
"Thank you major." I replied, my eyes still scanning the technical schematics for the Zephyr. Apparently, though the magnificent ship had been finished for the last year, the navy had not accepted the design for production. I had been astounded, but there was actually a logical reason for it, though I still thought it foolish. The Zephyr was originally the last of eight specially designed ships to be built, the only members of the discontinued Seraphim class. They had been meant to revolutionize space combat. They had been designed to be able to completely link command and control systems, so the fleet could cooperate on an unparalleled level, and in case of damage that incapacitated a crew, any other ship could take control of any other. Thus, in theory at least, an entire fleet could act as one, continuing to fight after damage that would have knocked out any other. But the Seraphim had been tragically flawed. An overlooked failsafe protocol built into the remote circuits caused the remote command and control system to go haywire at the slightest damage, basically taking control away from the ship's crew. In their first engagement, early in the war, six of the eight ships were utterly destroyed in a matter of minutes. Only the Zephyr and the Seraph, its sister ship, had escaped. The Seraph had been so badly damaged that it had been scrapped. But that had allowed the Zephyr to survive.
Since then, naval techs had done a complete overhaul of the Zephyr's systems. Cannibalizing parts from the Seraph, they had increased the capacity and sensitivity of the control systems of the Zephyr to nearly four times that of normal ships, and had removed the remote control systems entirely. Since then, the Zephyr had been the test platform for every new piece of technology capital ships had been given. When my old friend Pride, always an original thinker, had joined the research team, he had come up with a way to give it the maneuverability of a much smaller ship without sacrificing any other system. What he had done, among many other things, was to redesign the maneuvering thrusters to take advantage of the Zephyr's increased control systems. The technical specs of the bewildering array of advanced systems were actually way too complicated to explain simply, but I gathered that the Zephyr had gone from a ship no one had wanted, to the most advanced ship in the galaxy. Not only that, but it carried one piece of technology that no other ship had. It had a perfected cloaking field, allowing it to hide in plain sight and strike from the shadows.
But, despite its advancements, all the admiralty had to see to not accept the design was the word Seraphim, even though it bore only the most cursory similarity with the original design. So, Admiral Brinkley, the commander of the Prometheus facility, had officially offered the ship to me to be my command ship. Apparently, he and every other designer on the station had been tired of their finest creation not seeing action. I had already said yes, on the condition that its sensors and computers be refitted so as to be able to coordinate fighter operations, a modification that required finer sensor acuity than most capital ships possessed. I had also ordered the administrative shuttles and their service equipment to be removed from the ship, intending to replace them with drop ships and storage facilities for Tartarus modules. The modifications were already in progress, and I was looking forward to having such a versatile ship at my disposal, even though it added to my work load. I still had to find a crew for it, as well as mechanics, security forces and so on. Still, it solved a number of problems I had had.
"Sir, may I ask what you are reading?" Dillinger asked, coming into the office from the hallway.
"The technical specs for the Zephyr." I replied, looking up at my adjutant. Seeing the look on his face, I continued. "What is it major?"
"Colonel Prydwen has asked to see you about a matter of some urgency sir." He reported. "Said it couldn't wait."
"Send him in." I replied, setting the technical specs aside. When my old friend walked in, he looked more than a little worried. Knowing him as I did, this must have been important. "What is it Pride?"
"General, something has just come to my attention." He said, taking a seat before my desk. "I think I will need your help."
"What is it?" I asked, wondering what it was he was talking about. I had already asked to meet with him tomorrow, intending to bring him into the anti-Conclave conspiracy.
"A few hours ago, the computers of the Prometheus station were accessed by remote." He said and I raised my eyebrows.
"That network is hard line isolated isn't it?" I asked and he nodded.
"We think that someone rigged a remote transmitter, though we haven't been able to locate it." He said. "What is more troubling is that even though we are isolated from other networks, we still use Beta encryption algorithms. Someone would have had to have been very, very good with computers to get into the system."
"What did they..." I started to ask, but before I could finish the sentence, my heart went suddenly cold. I gasped, a hand clutching unconsciously at the necklace around my neck. Katy was in danger, I was sure of it. Even stranger, the link between Katy and I was suddenly gone. I couldn't feel her at all anymore, though my heart and mind reached out for her desperately. Panic rose within me, panic that I could not wholly block out. It had happened so suddenly that I didn't think she was dead. While death did sever psychic connections, when someone died, the connection faded gradually as their brain shut down. This time, it had cut off as suddenly as someone hitting a switch.
"Knight? Are you okay?" Pride asked, getting to his feet, looking concerned. I shook my head and didn't reply, trying to clear the panic from it and then looked up at him, my eyes perfectly clear and determined.
"I am sorry old friend, I have to go." I replied, getting up and rushing from the room, my friend following me quickly, having to run to keep up.
"Knight what is going on?!" He asked but I didn't reply, continuing my quick walk down the corridor. I headed directly for the secure Hypercom transmitter on this level of the base, nearly bowling over a trio of Naval officers as I passed. Even in my panicked state, I knew I could not go rushing off to her, especially since I didn't know what was wrong, even though that was exactly what my subconscious was demanding of me. Despite the risks of it being discovered and traced, I was going to send a hyper link transmission asking her what was going on. And if I didn't start feeling her again by this time tomorrow, then I was going after her, no matter the consequences...