As she rose, she did so with practiced poise. She even bowed with her hands cupped together.
“When did the vulture come in?” Rousseau whispered to Jackson.
“Last night. Direct from the southern command post,” he whispered back.
“Hello, all,” she said, looking about the cabin with a curled posh smile. “My name is Ambassador Farah Saeed. I want to start off by thanking each and every one of you for being here today. You are what makes our Sovereignty the goliath that we are, the pillar of justice in the universe. Bravo to you, my compatriots,” she clapped as the rest of the crew blankly stared back. The ambassador’s voice was calm and clear, with just a hint of an accent trailing the end of her words.
“In these growing times of unity with our neighbors to the south, it is our duty to ensure peace reigns supreme. But that does not mean we show our bellies in the face of adversity or intimidation. Nor should we act rashly without a strategy, which brings me to the reason for my being here today. The Planetary Consolidation Corporation has sent me to… collaborate with Minister Voss. To reassure him, we are here to help.”
The crew glanced at each other knowingly as if they had heard similar speeches before. The other security guard, Romano, who was slouched in his chair, raised his hand.
“Yes, crewman?” the ambassador acknowledged.
“Yeah, um, begging your pardon, ma’am. But why not just park us right outside the minister’s office? I show him my 72, he quits his whinin’, and we get to enjoy the rest of this boring assignment in some of that peace you were talkin’ about,” Romano said with an East Coast accent, presenting his weapon with pride.
“Yeah, then we show his ass off to the whole colony, so he knows we mean business,” Msuya laughed, with Romano joining in.
“Alright, guys, settle down. We’ve got a job to do,” Jackson halfheartedly scolded his troops. “Thank you, Ambassador. You may be seated,” he nodded, to which the Ambassador sat back down in an uncomfortable quietness. “So, what’s the word, Commander? We’re not dropping into the city square like last time?” he asked, going back to polishing his weapon.
Korban winced at the mere mention of landing inside the square. The minister threatened them with fines and arrests the last time they pulled a stunt like that. Not that the Sovereignty couldn’t pay for it, but with the already fragile relationship between their two governments, it was best to avoid any other misgivings, if possible.
Like the Captain said, ‘Don’t want to start anything tedious.’
“Negative, Jackson. We’re going to park just outside the city,” Korban reaffirmed. Looking around, the crew had a tinge of concern in their eyes as if expecting more.
Korban stood up to announce more clearly. “Listen up. We are going to walk into town as a calm and collected unit. We are going to request permission to go inside the Minister’s office. And we are going to cooperate with the Tesh until Ambassador Saeed can get this matter under control. We are not going to force our way inside.”
By now, everyone was hanging on every word.
“Remember, they have welcomed us into their home as their guests. No matter how they might treat us, we cannot respond with hostility or act out because of some grudge. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can return to our homes.”
Silence settled in the small cabin as the weight of his words began to sink in, and for a moment, everyone held their breath. “We will be departing in five minutes. Double-check your gear before takeoff. Dismissed.” Without another word, the crew stood up, saluted, and sat back down, except for Korban, who walked out to the hangar.
With one hand stroking his chin, he went over the mission in his head again.
Does Minister Voss really believe this will yield anything worthwhile? This plan of his is reckless. He has no idea that his own plan could jeopardize everything. The Sovereignty doesn’t take threats lightly.
While deep in thought, Korban canceled out all noise except his own thoughts. Not even the voice right behind him could be heard.
“—der.”
The only thing this stunt will do is extend our tour. Don’t those damn vultures know we want to see our wives before we’re all eating creamed corn through a straw? Maybe I should take command and force the ship back home—
“Commander Korban?” the voice rang through clearly this time. Korban jolted to attention and spun around to face the doctor, who had been startled by the commander’s jump. “Whoa! Everything alright, Commander?”
In less than five seconds, Korban analyzed the situation and was able to collect himself. “Oh, it’s only you,” he breathed, doubled over with his hands on his knees.
The doctor stared with concern as he reached out and gently placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You know, Jonah, if you’re not feeling up to it this time, you could ask the Captain to send somebody else.”
Korban cocked his head toward the doctor with a questioning and serious brow. With his lips tightly shut, he lifted his head and let out a deep exhale he had been bottling up for some time.
“It’s nothing,” he said, straightening up. “Just tired, is all.” Blankly staring at the ceiling, his eyes danced around as he lost himself in memories long since past. “20 years of this, can you believe it?” he mumbled.
The doctor said nothing. He only stood still, waiting.
Seemingly shaking off whatever was bothering him, Korban lightly pounded his fist on the doctor’s shoulder. “Shall we?” he asked, returning to the shuttle.
As the doctor watched his friend trudge farther away, he let out a sigh for himself before he also headed back.
Inside, the rest of the crew were conducting final checks on themselves and each other, with Rousseau at the helm, preparing the ship for takeoff as she flipped the switches and tapped on the screen that served as her control terminal. The engines engaged in standby, causing a low-frequency hum.
Both the commander and the doctor took their seats with the rest of the crew. The intercom pinged throughout the small shuttle. “Everyone fasten yourselves in; we will begin take off in one minute,” Rousseau stated.
Strapping themselves into their seats, the doctor couldn’t help but glance over at his friend with the same concern he had a few moments ago.
Fastening his strap, Jackson turned to Rousseau, who was finishing up last-minute checks. “No autopilot this time,” he reminded her, earning a scowling side-eye from the ensign. “You never know when you’ll need to take control of a situation,” he shrugged.
The doors to the shuttle slid shut, hissing while the magnetic locks sealed the crew inside. “Seal complete. Oxygen level stabilized,” the ship’s computer chimed.
Rousseau radioed the Deck Officer for takeoff before she set the secondary and primary thrusters to standby.
Seeing the civilian next to him turning flushed, Romano yelled over the roar of the engines, “This your first time on a type C-class Hopper, Ambassador?”
Without turning to him, she nodded—an almost sickly look to her.
“Here,” he said, handing her his helmet. “You might need that,” he yelled slowly and with heavy enunciation.
The hangar’s looming doors shuttered open with The Templon’s artificial atmosphere and gravity preventing the vacuum of space from jettisoning everything outside.
“Hang on tight, y’all,” Jackson announced over the intercom.
With a quick jerk up, the ship’s back thrusters engaged, hurtling them out into the cold, dark expanse.
During transit, the cabin’s lighting switched from the dim blue standby lights to a deep red. There were no apertures inside the shuttle, except for the front pilot window, making travel by shuttlecraft beyond nauseating for even the most seasoned soldiers.
The Sovereignty’s philosophy for everything they do revolved around striking swiftly and with extreme precision, a principle reflected in the design of each of their vehicles. Their particular shuttle featured a streamlined, bullet-like shape, with a cylindrical nose tapering to a sharp point to minimize drag. The body also maintained a slightly cylindrical form, optimizing the surface-to-volume ratio to reduce atmospheric resistance and improve aerodynamics during high-speed travel.
“We’re about to hit gravity, folks. Don’t blame the driver if you can’t hold your lunch,” Rousseau declared over the intercom.
Entering the planet’s exosphere immediately shook the vessel as they were being pulled into the planet. Partly due to Daria Prime’s erratic atmospheric disturbances and partly because of the speed at which they were traveling, the descent toward the planet became grueling.
“Ensign, slow us down as we approach the 25-kilometer mark, or we’ll be fighting the thermals all the way down,” Jackson directed.
“Uh, right,” she used the ship’s terminal to pull back on the thrusters. Rousseau flipped a few overhead switches as Jackson began to co-pilot from his end. Together, the two slowed the ship’s descent nearly 20 kmph.
Past the clouds just beyond the horizon, the vibrant, mountain-cradled settlement of Alwar came into view. Being the planet’s single largest metropolis, it was filled with skyscrapers and marvelous architecture one might hope to find in the core worlds of the Sovereignty.
“There, set us down there,” Jackson punched in the coordinates to a remote clearing in the forest just east of Alwar.
With such high winds in the area, controlling the ship turned into a greater feat than it would have been if the ship had been regulating its stability with autopilot. The gusts proved to be too intense, prompting Jackson to step as the constant jostling shook the cabin relentlessly.
Finally, a window of opportunity arose as the winds died just long enough for them to level the ship out and land it softly onto the green grass.
A relaxed sigh escaped Rousseau, and she slouched down in her seat with a thump. She and Jackson glanced at each other with no more than a brief nod. “Don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” Rousseau choked out.
“Did a fine job, kid,” Jackson said, getting up and patting her on the shoulder. “Alright, everyone, up and at’em!”
The crew scrambled to release their seatbelts while the ship’s engines grew quieter until they reduced back to their original hum like they had been on The Templon. One of the security guards had turned a shade of green, so much so that he couldn’t stand without assistance. Doubling over, Msuya was convulsing as he tried resisting the urge to hurl.
In a panic, Jackson snapped his fingers to get Fisher’s attention, “Hey, hey, hey, hey! We’re not having that right now, uh-uh. Lieutenant, get those doors open, pronto!”
Before the magnetic seal could unlock, Fisher overrode the hatch’s mechanism to open forcibly. Everyone promptly stumbled out into the fresh oxygen-rich air. While most of the crew were shaken up by the journey, only one guard was on his hands and knees, puking.
Sniffling and heaving, Msuya turned his sunken eyes at the Commander, a drip of drool clinging from his gaping mouth. The Commander stared back down with thin lips. A mix of concern and deadpan disappointment clearly written on his face as the guard apologized through his retching.
Relaxing his face, he gave a subtle sigh. “It’s alright, we’ll make do. Doc, stay back here and do what you can do. The rest of you, saddle up, we’re hitting the town,” he signaled with a 360-degree spin with his index finger.
Just before the crew began their hike into the city, Korban raised his hand to Fisher to stop him in his tracks. “Except for you, Lieutenant.”
“What?” Fisher looked dismayed. “Why not?”
“Cause… I need you to make sure the seal on the hatch wasn’t damaged when you opened it,” Korban lied, knowing the door wouldn’t have broken from a forceful open like that. The truth was that he saw Fisher like a younger brother, but knew that if he were with him when they met Minister Voss, Fisher’s kind-hearted presence would distract him from fulfilling his obligations to the Sovereignty. Korban acknowledged that Fisher swayed his conscience, so he had no choice but to leave him behind.
Standing in front of everyone, Fisher’s eyes darted to the ground. He sucked in his lips with a considerate nod. Looking up, he clicked his heels together and saluted, “As you wish, Commander.”
With that, the group journeyed out. As they traveled further and further away from the ship, Korban steeled his heart and mind for the decisions he would likely have to make—a ritual he was all too comfortable with.