One day.
The Big Sit Down
Even the crew members that were off-shift were awake and buzzing about the ship. Nemmy watches a couple of Shipmates nearly bump heads in the tight corridors as she walks to the bridge. She can understand the excitement. She gets to the bridge and takes her seat, noticing that Zhang and Samuel have also taken their oft-ignored stations. There also appears to be an extra security officer or two next to the chutes that drop from the security station on the deck above.
“Captain,” Ravaan says, welcoming Nemmy onto the bridge with a snap salute before returning to his console. Nemmy smiles as she returns the salute. He will pretend otherwise, but he is every bit as interested as everyone else is.
It’s not every day you see the Emperor’s ship in person, after all. The Boomslang is just one of a massive assembly of Imperial military might, hovering around Sanctum station. Partly to protect the Emperor’s carriage, and partly to impress and intimidate any nearby Confederate spectators. Nemmy looks up at the already active viewspace. The Confed ships swarm around their Presidential ship, an elegant, swooping triangular shape. Hordes of the new single-pilot fighter craft buzz around as the group approach their side of the station. The red and white mass is an impressive sight. They have all arrived together. The Imperial assignment, however, is arriving in groups. The Emperor is nothing if not flamboyant, with entrances to match.
“Everyone seems to be excited Ravaan, don’t you think? She asks.
“Yes, quite so. If only they could muster this much enthusiasm every shift” he says, running a disapproving eye over the various officers. Amira, who had until now been silently watching the ships, laughs softly.
“The stress would kill most of them in a day. We can’t all maintain your utmost professionalism, Commander” she quips.
“Certainly not with that attitude, Major” Ravaan replies dryly. A soft chiming sound fills the bridge, seeming to come from all the consoles at once. The bustling and movements stop all at once. They all know the sound, even though most people never hear it. A Priority One message. Nemmy leans to her console and activates the message. Blackness fills the viewspace except for the Human Imperium emblem. The Emperor himself is never seen on official comms.
“His Most Glorious Majesty will arrive shortly. Assume assigned positions” a booming voice commands. As quickly as it appears, the emblem disappears, and the viewspace goes back to the previous view. Nemmy quickly changes the perspective. Imperial ships fill the screen, at least twice as many as the Confed detachment. She isn’t slow to notice that the Hammer of Justice has a prominent position next to the entry vector for the late arrivals. As they watch, four massive ships drop out of warp-space.
“The Four Horsemen!” Alonso whispers to Emily, although in the quiet everyone can hear. For once she shares his awe. Each a uniquely designed and shaped vessel, the four hulking warships are the permanent vanguard of the Emperor’s Blade. Unlike other famed ships they had encountered recently, these ships were every bit as effective as promised, utterly bristling with weapon points. Nemmy isn’t overly interested in the technical comparisons of various ship classes, but it is a visually arresting sight nonetheless. She wonders if it is something akin to patriotism that the crews of the various ships were feeling. One of the major revelations she has picked up on this job is the level of camaraderie ship crews have with each other. That balancing line between respectful friendship and heated rivalry between crews is something she didn’t ever experience working at Sector HQ.
The four ships move apart as the fifth and final ship arrives. A colossal ship arrives in the space between the four ships. The Emperor’s Blade, the largest and most advanced ship in the entire Imperium. The astonishing vessel comprises two large discs that are joined to form a vague figure of eight shape. The two discs slowly rotate in opposite directions as the five ships all start moving towards Sanctum. The scene suddenly unnerves Nemmy. So many ships from either side. Even the smallest flare-up or misunderstanding could be a disaster.
“Navigation, take us to our assigned fleet position” Ravaan orders.
“Moving now, Commander” Emily replies, whizzing her hands across the controls. The armada moves as one towards their respective docking ports. Like the rest of the crew, Nemmy is so fixated on the sight that it takes her several seconds to realise her Strap is beeping.
“Yes?”
“Captain Le Beau? We need to speak. Immediately” a strong female voice demands. A distinct, instantly recognisable voice.
“Callendra? Where are you? Why didn’t you contact the ship?” Nemmy asks.
“I’ll explain when we meet. I assume your crew will be heading onto Sanctum, yes? I’ll find you when you arrive” Callendra says, ending the comm instantly. Nemmy groans. That small flare-up might be more likely than she thought.
The ships all move as one towards Sanctum before rapidly breaking up to take their docking slots. The Boomslang is amongst the first to dock. As always, the crew make quick work of bustling off the ship into the station proper. Nemmy, unsure of where to meet Callendra, wanders away from the streams of people heading towards the public meeting arena where the Emperor and the Confederation President will have their introductory talk. As she stumbles about, an orb zips out of a doorway and stops in front of her. It beeps, which causes her Strap to beep.
“Uh, are you-“
“Follow please,” the orb says, scooting back towards the doorway. Nemmy has little time to ponder the situation, so she jogs after the orb. The vastness of Sanctum is made clear to her as within a minute she is climbing stairs she has never seen before and running along a transparent tube-like platform hanging dozens of metres above the huge opening floor. Crowds far down below were rapidly assembling all around a raised, ornate looking circular stand. Eventually, the orb brings the gasping, red-faced Nemmy to a little nook next to an old-style monitor in a darkened corner of the tube. For some reason, the lighting had been dimmed here. Nemmy stops to suck in oxygen next to some grime covered mechanical equipment.
“You got here safely?” Callendra says, stepping out from behind one of the larger units. Nemmy is too tired to respond vocally, loosely bobbing her head up and down.
“Good. I assumed you would be here as part of this leadership summit. I am here because I’ve learned of a plot to assassinate your Emperor” Callendra says calmly. Nemmy looks at her with astonishment. The very idea is laughable.
“You can’t be serious” she finally says, having regained her composure and her natural heartbeat.
“I am extremely serious. I’ve been tailing numerous people for several reasons, not the least of which our recent trip to that installation. I’ll spare you the minutiae for now, but I believe that the individuals in question are planning to murder the Emperor at the first speech during this summit” Callendra explains, moving over to the transparent wall bulging over the side of the stage. Nemmy follows and they look down at the crowd.
“Why are you telling me? And why don’t you stop this if you are so sure?” Nemmy asks, still disbelieving and with good reason to. Even if someone could manage to pull off such an impossible crime, their lives wouldn’t be worth living afterward.
“Firstly, I have to make sure I have all the individuals involved all in one place. Secondly, I may need your ability to access designated areas and information. And lastly, because I promised I would repay you for potentially incriminating you on that station, which I intend to do here. We must move quickly” She says, motioning for Nemmy to follow. As usual, Nemmy is torn between confusion and curiosity. But if the Emperor’s life is in danger, she reasons she must investigate, at least. Callendra isn’t a danger to her. Probably.
They make their way down various numbered stairways, led by Callendra’s orb. All the walls and windows share identical shades of brown and grey to Nemmy. This station is dizzying in size and design. They move swiftly through
various identical waiting rooms and corridors, towards the ground level. Eventually, they get out onto the main floor. The crowd is already thick enough to block out the raised speaking area from view. Callendra instantly stops, blocking Nemmy with her arm. She uncoils her metal belt, and it slithers around her arm. She scans her eyes around the vast floor, presumably looking to recognise faces amongst the grouped masses. Nemmy is too shocked at the belt’s movements to see anything else. Within a few moments, Callendra taps the orb. It shoots off across the floor into the crowd, breezing past people unnoticed.
“Some of them are nearby. I will require you to follow the orb, incapacitate anyone you find. It will indicate your targets. Then make your way back to this spot” Callendra says. Nemmy grabs her arm before she walks off.
“What? Incapacitate? How am I supposed to do anything without weapons? What if there are dozens of people?” an incredulous Nemmy demands. Callendra pauses for a moment.
“Calm yourself. It is a legitimate concern, I grant that. Use this” she says. She closes her eyes and extends the arm with the cord. Jutting out her other arm, part of the cord liquefies and drops off. It instantly hardens back into a small cord shape in her hand. Callendra hands over the new cord to Nemmy.
“Uh…thanks?”
“This will only last for an hour or two. It will need to be remerged after that” Callendra informs her.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Nemmy asks.
“Whatever you wish. Simply imagine it, and it shall be so” Callendra says with a faint smile. She rushes off into the crowd as Nemmy shifts the odd piece of metal between her hands. It feels just like a regular cord, if slightly warmer than expected. Feeling extremely self-conscious, she wiggles the cord. Looking around, she is concerned people might think her strange, but it’s obvious that no-one is paying her any attention.
“Okay cord…turn into a sword?” she whispers, crouching down. To her astonishment, the metal reshapes around her hand, emerging into a classic sword shape. She moves the sword around, and the light glitters along the razor-sharp edge. Even the hilt has formed an ornate guard around her hand. She gawks at the new weapon, disbelieving that such a thing can happen. Whilst hiding the weapon from the eyes of potential viewers, she realises that no alarms have gone off. Nor have any of the security personnel noticed her weapon. She runs her hand over the metal. It feels just like regular metal, yet it’s clearly something else. Just a tool, Callendra had said before. Nemmy makes it a point to figure out the truth, but for now, she gets up and tries not to draw attention as she follows the orb down a side corridor.
The massed Imperials focus their attention entirely on the raised stage, awaiting their leader. Ravaan, on the other hand, keeps a firm eye on Amira, who is predictably glaring daggers in the direction of the massed Confederation officers on the other side of the arena. Anger practically radiates out of her. Pleasantly for Ravaan, she appears to be the lone exception in a positive crowd. There is no hint of tension anywhere else in the area. Everyone is excited to see the two most powerful humans alive on the same stage, a rare occurrence. He is not embarrassed to admit he feels the same. Seeing His Most Glorious Majesty in person is incredibly rare for anyone; being in the Service has allowed him and the rest of the ship’s crew this chance that regular citizens would not have. An oval-shaped section of the stage rises from the floor, breathing a layer of smoke across the stage. An off-kilter doorway appears in the centre of the raised section. Mr Famous, the gangly, oddly dressed station manager, steps out and sashays forward to thunderous applause. He stops as three podiums rise from the floor, moving to the middle one. He raises his hands, and the lighting all around the stage dims instantly.
“Fellow travellers, we are truly blessed. A summit of destiny on this portentous day. The song of peace carries us all to higher planes. Allow your humble speaker to introduce two most respectable individuals. To my left, the President of the Confederation of Free People, Shianna Godin” Famous says as another elevator rises to his left. The red-lined doors split open and a diminutive woman in a smart crimson suit approaches the leftmost podium to thunderous applause from one side of the arena and deathly silence from the other. Her cropped blonde, nearly white hair, contrasts powerfully with her almost charcoal skin. She grins and waves at someone in the crowd.
“Thank you, Mr Famous, I’m honoured to be here. I look forward to many productive discussions. We all hope to maintain this peace between our two great peoples. Thank you all for being with us on this momentous day” she says. Famous bows low to the ground.
“To my right, His Most Glorious Majesty, The Emperor of the Human Imperium” he announces. To Ravaan’s surprise, the Imperial cheering is met with reasonable applause from the Confederate side of the audience. The third elevator comes up, predictably with a green lined door frame. The Emperor steps out, and every single Imperial in the room salutes. He steps forward slowly to his podium, resplendent in his shimmering white and gold outfit. A glittering cape billows slightly as he comes to a stop. A tall, imposing figure of a man, with immaculately cut hair, flawless pale skin, a vision of power in every sense. He raises a hand, and the salutes instantly drop. The Emperor looks over the adoring Imperial crowd, his ice blue eyes seeming to look directly at each person. Ravaan feels a slight chill as they lock eyes for a fraction of a second.
“A rare occasion indeed. I shall always strive for justice and fairness. Enjoy this historic day, In the spirit of co-operation” he says. His voice is deep and faintly modulated as if his voice box is mechanical. Ravaan, like most people here, has never heard him speak in person. The awed hush all around him deepened his unsettled feeling. A hush interrupted by a bustling sound. Ravaan turns to find Sector Admiral Le Beau brushing her way past several slack-jawed Shipmates. He snaps a salute.
“Admiral”
“Where is your captain?” She barks, ignoring the salute.
“I believe she was called away on some matter. She...declined to explain further” Ravaan says, choosing his words carefully. He is not entirely sure what she is doing. His answer does not amuse the Admiral, as her face clouds over.
“It had better be extremely important, for her sake,” Alondra says. Ravaan nods dutifully. He notes how comparatively unfazed she is by the Emperor’s presence. She is a powerful, commanding figure in her own right, clearly not one to be intimidated by position or circumstance. A truly impressive officer, worthy of immense respect. An officer whose trust would be invaluable for someone hoping for a long and successful career.
“I can try to locate her if you wish, Admiral?” He asks.
“No. It’s better not to draw even more attention. After the initial speeches” Alondra snarls, glaring past Ravaan’s head. He turns to see Admiral Winters making his way into the crowd. Ravaan focuses back on the stage, watching a large screen appear behind each of the three speakers. Whatever the Captain is doing, it must indeed be important to cause her to miss such an event.
Nemmy had heard the distant applause as the orb had led her around the far side of the arena. The walls and doors are pristine, and the area is well-lit. Oddly, no security can be found. It occurs to Nemmy that she has passed several security personnel on the way here, but this particular corridor is completely abandoned. The featureless grey walls are coated with a thin dust, suggesting this corridor might be deliberately undisturbed. The orb stops in front of a door and flashes a series of lights. Nemmy assumes this is the destination. She presses her ear against the door. Muffled voices are all she can hear. She can’t be sure how many people are in there. Without security nearby, they may be armed in some fashion. She grips the metal of the now relaxed cord tightly, pondering her next move. The orb however clearly has a plan. A prodding arm juts out from the orb and quickly unlocks the door.
“No, not yet!” Nemmy whispers, but to no avail. The orb pushes the door open and zooms through. Instinctively, she leaps after it. Four men ar
e spread around the otherwise barren grey room. They are all holding large blades. And they are all looking at the interloper.
“Who the hell are you?” one demands, raising his knife for effect.
“Maintenance?” Nemmy squeaks. The confused men look at each other. The nearest man starts to move forward. He gets exactly one step before the orb suddenly launches into him, releasing an electrical charge. With a shriek, he collapses. The three other men snarl in collective anger, rushing towards Nemmy.
“No!” She shouts, whipping her arm around. In a flash, the cord lashes out. The three men snap backwards and collapse, almost faster than she can see. The cord retracts and shapes around her arm into a smooth forearm sleeve. A gobsmacked Nemmy glances at the men. She can’t tell if they are dead or not. With a familiar dreadful shiver, she looks over the metal sleeve on her arm. What appears to be an innocent metal construct is clearly the kind of highly advanced weapon a civilian would never have.
“I see why she always wears this thing,” Nemmy says to herself. The orb beeps and boosts back out of the room. Nemmy sprints after it. Hopefully, Callendra has managed to deal with the others. As she runs back towards the main arena, she can hear the raucous shouting, the angry voices. She may be too late. The orb leads her through a short tunnel, back into the open space, and she can see scuffling all around her. Several security officers are grappling with various random people. She can’t really tell what’s going on-
The stage. The stage is unguarded. The glimpse of a blade. Someone is moving through the crowd. Without thinking, Nemmy rushes towards the man. Bodies mass in front of her, and she barges and elbows her way desperately through various people. Shouting and cursing fill her ears. A blur of arms and red outfits surround her. A heavy thud on her ribs casts her out of the mass into a small empty space. She looks towards the stage. Three men have climbed up, each brandishing a weapon towards their target of choice. Nemmy looks around. In the panic, the security piles into the crowds. It must be an organised attack. Where is Callendra?
Unknown Earth Volume 2 Page 16
