In case you are interested in reading this from the beginning:
Thanks for reading!
Instead of a dock, we were given a landing bay that was probably big enough for two Haul-o-casters to land in. Once landed, instead of the usual force field barrier that most space stations used these days, there was a huge door that closed and then the landing bay was pressurized. It felt both comforting and terrifying all at once. We weren't leaving unless they let us leave.
Mother Ahmisa, the Chief, and I met the small, odd delegation that came to greet us. There was, of course, Auntie Essey, bossing everyone around handbag at her side I'm sure in case she needed to deploy it as a persuasion apparatus. With her was a middle-aged man in a suit, and someone in what could only be a Morganite Officer's uniform. Behind the trio was a line of about a dozen armed soldiers, carrying rifles at the ready.
I was glad I wore my good uniform.
The Morganite Officer stepped forward, apparently, he had precedence. "It's nice to meet you Capitan. I am Admiral Tonamann, overall CO of the militia and operations of the station. This is Mr. Montegue, he is Mayor of the civilian side. And i believe you've met Essey. She is of the founding family. You'll have to excuse the soldiers; we've had a bit of excitement lately. You'll have to forgive us for being overly cautious. That said, Essey? Is this indeed your grandnephew?"
"Yes General, he is most definitely my grandnephew." Essey said, not even noticing the wince from the Admiral.
"All right." The Admiral said, "Capitan, we do need to meet your crew, anyone who is going to exit your ship anyway. They will need have a med-scan and an interview. Purely out of an abundance of caution you understand. Last week, we were attacked by some 'rus ships. We usually leave them alone and they leave us alone, on the rare occasion they even bother coming down our lonely road. The guns on the Unchained Fury made short work of them, but when our shuttles went out to investigate the wreckage, we found some human bodies. Or more to the point, parts of human bodies. I tell you, our guns are nothing if the aren't efficient." The Admiral smiled at his ship in pride. Never mind it wasn't so much a ship as a settlement anymore. It didn't matter, it's the same pride.
"Admiral, did you manage to get any intelligence on why the humans were on the 'rus ships?" Chief Williamson asked. There was a momentary look of miss-trust on the Admirals face. Aunt Essey must have picked up on it.
"Admiral Tonamann! Do you know who this is? This is Argencourt Fariday Williamson, namesake of Admiral Fariday Williamson, the founder of this settlement and a trusted member of the founding family. You answer any question he wants to ask!"
The Admiral sighed. "My apologies Chief, it's been quite a week. Yes and no. We found human remains, but we didn't find anything we could identify as 'rus remains. That would be odd, except you know 'rus. Occasionally they get all indignant and attack. Never in numbers like this before mind you, but in the past when the 'rus have attacked, we didn't find any 'rus remains either. On the other hand, the few times we've been attacked by 'rus before it was always a relatively small ship that was obliterated by our weapons, so there wasn't much left to search. So in short, we don't know."
The crew's physicals and interviews went well except for Lt. Tine's. The interviewer, there was only one, took one look at Lt. Tine's tattoos and sent him back to the Haul-o-caster. When my turn came up, he tried doing the same with me, but in my case, the Admiral happened to be close by and intervened.
"Admiral, this thing is an abomination, and I will not have it on my station!" The interviewer exclaimed.
The Admiral laughed.
"Son, I've been having a chat with Chief Argencourt Fariday Williamson. This is his Capitan, Capitan of the Haul-o-caster. From what I get from the good Chief, Chief Argencourt Fariday Williamson no less." Each time he said it, the Admiral emphasized Fariday Williamson part. "Seems to be of the opinion that this young lady Capitan is one of the best, and most true, Capitans in the entire Morganite fleet, in spite of having not grown up with good Morganite teachings. I suggest you get over your prejudices and interview the good Capitan."
"Sir, can I also put in a good word for our Lt. Tine?" The Chief asked. "It seems he has received the same treatment as my good Capitan."
"That man is a criminal! And he is proud of it!" The interviewer practically screamed. "I will not be in the same room with that animal!"
"Call my crew member an animal one more time, and I'll kill you where you stand." I'm not sure what came over me, but I meant every word of it. Nobody was going to talk about my Lt. Tine that way.
"Everybody stand down!" Bellowed the Admiral. Everyone fell quiet. The command in his voice was just that strong. Then he continued more softly. "Now, that's better. Capitan, please if you would allow me to handle this. I understand you are new here. We don't exactly do 'kill you where you stand' here. I commend you for standing up for your crewman though. There has never been enough of that in the Morganite Fleet as far as I'm concerned."
The admiral turned to the interviewer. "That will be all Conrad. You are relieved of duty, and just in case you don't understand my meaning, you are relieved completely. Fired you might say. Stripped of all rank and privileges. You will be escorted to housing where you will remove your things from your compartment, and you will report to the civilian housing section for assignment to housing. You are no longer a member of the militia; you are to turn in your arms other than those personally owned by you. If I check tomorrow and you haven't turned in your militia arms, I will send a squad to arrest you and you will be charged with a crime. Please give me the excuse. Lieutenant! Get this man out of my site!" A man wearing a Lieutenant insignia showed up with three soldiers to lead Conrad, the former interviewer away.
"I don't know what to say Admiral." I said. I didn't. Yea, I know I had threatened to kill the man, but the Admiral had stripped him of everything. Killing him might have been kinder.
"Please Capitan, don't worry yourself. That was a long time coming." The Admiral replied. "Conrad is an exemplary intelligence officer, until he lets his strict Morganite upbringing short circuit his brain. Then he becomes an irredeemable bigot. The last time something like this happened, a teenage girl from one of the poorer sections of the station had wandered into a restricted area. Mr. Conrad was tasked with interviewing her to attempt to deduce if her presence in the restricted area really was an accident as she said, or something more nefarious. Unfortunately, Conrad noticed that the young lady had a tattoo on her ankle. Tiny little thing, I think it was of a teddy bear. By the time someone realized something was amiss, Conrad had the girl stripped naked, curled up in an airlock, and was demanding that she give up her terrorist cell or he was going to blow her into space. Because of his years of service, it was decided that he be given the benefit of some re-training and given a second chance."
"I was of the impression that people didn't get tattoos here." I said.
"By in large, they don't. Our sect of Morganism teaches that our bodies are the form that the Good God intended for us. We believe it is against his will to modify ourselves. You will also rarely see earrings or even makeup here. When the Morganite Secular government started using tattoos on prisoners, we protested, sometimes a little too strongly, causing more of us to be arrested and tattooed, causing more and more violent protests. That is why we left. Every society has people who are different. The Morganites use outside work and these settlements as a safety valve. It our case, it worked wonderfully, we are happy. That isn't always possible. There is a counterculture movement, mostly in the poorer sections of the settlement, that rejects our sect's teachings. Sending them away doesn't work, because they don't want to go. This is their home as much as it is ours. It would be wrong of us to force them out. The answer is to be tolerant. Conrad doesn't have it in him to do so. Unfortunately, with your cyber device and his tattoos, you and your Lt. Tine will probably find as many people here who agree with Conrad as you will people who will accept you. For that I apologize. We can show them the way, we can't make them accept it. Even worse, those who preach tolerance are in control of the sect, but there are nearly as many hardliners living here, so who's to say which side is right?"
"Do we need to worry? Are things that volatile?" I asked.
"No, the sect holds elections to the board once a year, and only a quarter of the board is changed each election. The balance of power is stable at least for the next two elections." The Admiral said. "After that? I'll just say it would take the hardliners making much bigger gains than projected for them to gain any measure of power in the next three to five years. Which might actually be a bad thing."
"How is that a bad thing, I thought you were pro-tolerance?" I asked.
"Because there is a small, but energetic group of hardliners who are growing more and more frustrated at what they see as a lack of representation. They look at the polls, and a lot of hardline ideas poll well. Really well. Sometimes up past seventy percent. After all, they do represent the beliefs of a majority of our population. However, if they had more representation on the council, I'm sure they would find out that there is a big difference between people agreeing to something on a poll, and people supporting legislation to that end. Or for that matter, being able to enforce those laws once they are on the books."
"Are the hardliner's demands really all that bad? I mean, if they poll that well, I can't imagine they could be all that bad." I asked.
"The polls are taken by the media. Militia members are forbidden to talk to the media, so already you have a whole section of society excluded from the polls. The media argues that the militia are a cross section of the people so in theory, if the militia was included in the polling, the results wouldn't change. The reality is, because very few travel outside the settlement, it's become a bit of an echo chamber. The only exception to this is the militia. New militia members go to Morgan Space for initial training, and militia units do training deployments once a year for additional unit training. They train with Morganites from other sects. They train with Morganite citizens who have turned their backs on Morganism and the Good God all together. They see new ideas and absorb new ways of thought. An estimated forty percent of militia members return from training with a tattoo. When a militia member loses a limb in training, they come back with bionic prosthesis. Those artificial limbs are now widely accepted in the militia. Often when accidents happen outside of training that involves an amputation or severe loss of functionality, that militia member is transferred to the unit that is next on the roster to deploy for training, because you can't get a bionic prosthesis here. In spite of helping people leave productive lives, prosthesis are still taboo here. Those that have them have learned to hide them when they're in the general public to keep from being discriminated against, or in extreme cases targeted for violence." The Admiral chuckled, "Ah, listen to me. I'm sorry to rant. It just gets me going when I think of how out of touch the population has grown. The hardliners in particular."
"Thanks for sharing that. I didn't realize just how careful I need to be." I said.
"My suggestion would be for you and Lt. Tine to mostly stick to the militia base." The Admiral advised. "There isn't much you can get out there that you can't get here. If you have to leave the base, let me know and I'll send a squad of Marines with you. I don't expect you would be physically attacked, but people can be nasty when they're scared, and you know how scared people get when they are exposed to something they don't understand."
The Admiral's words really got me thinking. What happens to a society when half of the people believe one way, and the other half believe another way? In the case of the Unchained Fury settlement, both sides of the argument feel like they are in the right. That their beliefs are the truth. So neither side wants to give an inch.
We checked the winds carefully before talking about our problem with the people on the station, and it almost cost us dearly.
"Admiral Thomas you say. Sure, I know exactly where he is." Admiral Tonamann said, "I wish there was something I could do to help him. I expect most of us in the stash settlements feel that way."
"Where is he?" I asked.
"Arrested. Charged with fostering treason, and abetting terrorists." Admiral Tonamann said. "I'm guessing the terrorists in question were you and your crew."
When the Admiral saw me start to panic, he held up a hand. "Relax Capitan. The only people here who believe you are actually terrorists are a few hardliners who think they can use it to gain politically. The claims against you are obviously fabrications, and you and your crew approached our settlement openly and honestly about who you are, where you've been, and what you've been up to."
"How do you know we've been so honest?"
"Because everywhere a ship goes, it picks up bits and pieces. A little dust here, a few scorch marks there. A pile of sandy dirt containing a rather nasty parasite from Angmar on your landing strut. Your weapons have been used, but nowhere near enough to destroy a single cruiser, let alone that and the carrier, and dozens of frigates, destroyers, freighters, a fleet tender, and the rest of a long list of ships that you've been accused of destroying." The Admiral had quite a grin. "Lady Capitan, a fine officer you may be, and a fine ship the Haul-o-caster may be, but you are far far from the scourge of the universe, and nowhere near capable enough to have done what you've been accused of."
"They blamed all that on just us?"
"You're an outsider, the bigger a monster they make you out to be, the more political power they can glean in the name of defeating you. By linking Admiral Thomas to you, they can paint him with the same evil brush. The Admiral's opponents are pushing to have him executed you know. There hasn't been an execution in Morgan Space for over three hundred years and now, when the 'rus have gone insane we need him, but where is he? He's in jail along with most of the best Capitans in his fleet, and the bastards want to kill him."
"They have his Capitans in jail too?" I asked.
"A lot of them." The Admiral replied. "Some of them refused to yield and were destroyed along with their ships. Some of them escaped. A few of them were out on assignments and are currently being hunted. I wish we could help them. If they came here, we could at least help resupply them, although even that is a risk. You never know when someone is going to take it in their heads to try to curry favor with whoever seems to be in charge in Morgan Space the idiots. We left Morgan Space for good reasons, and those reasons are still valid, but too many of the hardliners here have forgotten our history and they haven't been back to Morganite Space like I have, so they don't understand."
"The danger that someone might alert the Morganite government pertains to us to, doesn't it? Me and my crew?"
"Sadly, yes." Admiral Tonamann replied, "As soon as you've had a rest, I was going to suggest you let me fill your holds with supplies and for you to go find somewhere to hide. You should be safe for now; but the hardliners have stated making noises about trading you to the Morganite Government in exchange for political reforms. The dumb bastards actually think you are valuable enough that the Morganite Grand Senate will consider coding our Sect's dogma into Morganite Secular law to get their hands on you. It would be funny if it weren't so delusional."
"Delusional nothing, that's downright suicidal!"
"What do you mean?" He asked.
"They don't want us captured. They want us destroyed." I told the Admiral, "If we were captured, Admiral Thomas' allies could easily point out exactly what you already know. There is no way me and the crew of the Haul-o-caster could possibly do what they are saying we did. We will, however, take you up on your offer of supplies if you can spare them."
"We can. Before we left Morgan Space, we were a persecuted people. Not as persecuted as your Lt. Tine's people but persecuted none the less. It instilled in us a habit of squirreling away supplies. Once you are ready to depart, I'll have my nephew show you to one of my family's cachets. In anticipation of your departure, I have already earmarked supplies."
"I have never seen a squirrel Admiral, although I have read about them." I joked, "I was never of the impression that a squirrel would tell anyone where their nuts were hidden."
"No worry about that Capitan." The Admiral replied. "The cachet is an old heavy freighter. After you leave, my nephew will be moving it to another hiding spot. The family takes turns manning the ship, and it's his sister's turn to come home to the Unchained Fury."
I gave the crew another day of rest, then called them back to the ship.
"If any of you wish to stay, the Admiral has said there is a place for you in the militia at your current rank." I told them. Shelly made a rude noise.
"Well, we have Shelly's answer. Anyone else?" The rest of the crew made, or at least attempted to make, an approximation of Shelly's noise. Really, nobody makes rude noises like Shelly, and nobody rolls her eyes like Barnes. I've come to accept that about my crew.
"Ok then," I continued. "If we all die a flaming hot death, don't go crying to me.
"This is Norman, Admiral Tonamann's nephew. He's going to be taking us to a stash of supplies so we can resupply and get out of here before we attract too much trouble for these wonderful people."
"Hello everyone." Norman said. Barnes tried to give up the helm position, but Norman waved him back into place. "That's fine, I'll just give you the coordinates. I'm not a great pilot, and with all of you watching I'm afraid I might hit a moon or something."
The flight out to the stash didn't take long and was pretty quiet. Everyone seemed to be settling back into their usual routine. The heavy freighter was parked in orbit over the moon of the sixth planet in the system. The planed was a gas giant. I had seen bigger, but not much bigger. The moon was a ball of ice. I almost didn't see the heavy freighter as we approached because it was parked in the shadow of the dark side of the moon. As we approached, I was shocked to find that the freighter was flanked by a cruiser and a destroyer.
"It's ok." Norman told us, "They belong to our family. We keep a skeleton crew aboard all three to keep our supplies safe. Open a channel using this encryption key." He handed Shelly a data chip. "Nostro Nostro, Gamma Gamma Lima Charley Fox."
"Tango Tango, Gump Gump Wagga Wagga Fox. Nice to hear your voice bro." Replied a girl's voice.
"You aren't supposed to say anything not in code sis!" Norman admonished.
"You just did." Came the laughing reply. "I am NOT giving you docking coordinates in code. We would be here all week, not all of us are code freaks like you are, and besides, this communication is encrypted anyway."
Norman sighed.
Docking with the heavy freighter was simple enough, and soon supplies were flowing into my holds. I was amazed by the amount we were being given.
"Uncle Drogart, the Admiral, said to give you as much as you can hold in case you wanted to dig a hole in space and cover yourselves up. I don't understand what that means, but that's what he said. Sorry we don't have a whole lot of spare parts you can use. Most of what we have is old technology, but good enough for keeping these three ships going. As if we will ever need them, but they keep the old people happy."
"Capitan," Shelly cut in, "Comunication from the Shadow King, they say it's urgent."
"Send it to cargo bay three." Norman and I had been resting after loading some large crates of preserved field rations. They were the kind of meals that ground units tended to use rather than the less bulky ration bars that were commonly used on ships, but it's what we were being given, and we had the space for them. They aren't bad. I've had them before.
"Capitan Kid, I am Capitan Ceryl Tonamann of the Shadow King." Capitan Ceryl was a quiet, soft looking woman with a quiet voice. "We are picking up traffic from our.. Oh, you have Norman there with you. Norman. Alas Babylon, Delta Six Six." Tears started streaming down her face.
"What?" Norman practically yelled. "What is happening?"
Instead of replying, Capitan Ceryl pressed a couple buttons on her console and a video feed appeared. The Unchained Fury was being attacked. Normally i would have said that was a foolish thing to do, the Unchained Fury is, or had been, an old school battleship after all. She had powerful weapons and lots of armor. Except, she was being attacked by three Morganite battleships, two of them were the size of the Baskins, the third was even larger, and it was clear that the Unchained Fury was quickly being torn to bits.
"We have to help them!" Norman cried.
"The order is Delta Six Six Norman. We have to go." Replied Ceryl. "Captain Kid, we are joining with whatever is left of our family's fleet and what we can gather of our ally's fleets and making a break for the translation matrix. They'll probably have a blockade, so I don't have a lot of hope that we'll be able to escape, but at least it's a chance. You are free to join us."
"Do they know we're here?" I asked.
"They are blasting active sensors towards the station, but I don't think they've spotted us out here yet." Capitan Ceryl said. "And they shouldn't have records of any of the families' owning warships. According to the legends, these ships are all off the books."
"Legends?" I had to ask.
"Admiral Fariday Williamson is rumored to have been somewhat of a scoundrel who did a lot of wheeling and dealing. The story I heard was that most of these ships were heading for a scrap yard when he picked them up.
He famously said the government doesn't check to make sure they actually get scrapped; it wasn't his problem. Over the last 300 years, we've done a lot of repairing, rebuilding, and maintaining them as best as we can. I'm not looking forward to fighting more modern ships."
"I think it would be a better idea to head out to deep space and make like a hole in space. If they don't know your ships are here, they won't know to look for them." I suggested.
Capitan Ceryl looked relieved. She looked so young, far too young to Captain a ship. Had I ever been that young?
"That is what I'll suggest then." She replied.
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