It's my pleasure to present a brand new prologue to Spinward Fringe Broadcast 9: The Gathering. This prologue is unique in the fact that it is not so much the beginning of a new storyline, but an answer to a few questions (what happened to Freeground? and others...), and the natural continuation to a story that began way back in Broadcast 0.
Before you read any further, you should know that there are MAJOR SPOILERS for anyone who hasn't read the entire series. That's Broadcast 0-6, The Expendable Few, as well as Broadcasts 7 and 8 (in that order).
I hope you enjoy this, it's the raw copy without any work from my editors, so this is what most of my work looks like before they get their hands on it.
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Spinward Fringe Broadcast 9: The Gathering
Written by
Randolph Lalonde, 2014-2015
Copyright © 2015
Randolph Lalonde
Spinward Fringe
is a Registered Trademark of Randolph Lalonde
All Rights
Reserved
3rd draft
Prologue:
Freeground Alpha
Holographic
images were not Admiral Jessica Rice’s preferred method of watching anything,
but there was something about watching news about Ayan Anderson as a full sized
hologram that made her feel better overall. She admitted her desire to make
amends and accept Ayan as her daughter to no one. When the burden of command
lessened, and she had time alone, the young woman was always in the daydream
future the Admiral tried to avoid indulging in.
“-through this
conspiracy of ownership and the denial of rulership, Commander, or shall we
call her ‘Queen’ Ayan Anderson has barely represented her settlements to the
rest of the Rega Gain system,” said the announcer over the holographic
playback. “This news agency wasn’t allowed access to their monitoring systems,
so all our information is from testimony, our news gathering drones, and
stories from the Stellarnet. This reporter is fairly confident in saying that,
while it seems like the Queen of Haven Shore turns a cold shoulder towards the
people outside her safe haven, those who have been fortunate enough to make it
through her recruiting process are happy with their placements. They are given accommodations
in trade for labour that are becoming increasingly rare as the fringes of human
territories falls to the Order of Eden, corporate rule or lawless chaos. It’s
old socialism, or a new trade of freedom for safety, labour for a cot under a
shield. Or, is it?”
Admiral Rice
watched as holographic footage of Ayan arriving with a recruitment ship amidst
a razed landscape. Small downed ships, pools of toxic materials and broken
earth surrounded her and several heavily armed soldiers as they ushered people
who looked no better than their surroundings into combat shuttles. Footage of
what looked like a military complex followed, taken from a great distance by
one of the news drones the announcer mentioned, Admiral Rice supposed. She
immediately recognized it as a prefabricated Order of Eden base that Ayan’s
people had converted.
Several still
images of Ayan and members of her council followed as the announcer continued.
“With the history of selective humanitarianism Ayan has become somewhat well
known for, I can’t help but wonder why her Haven Shore council seems to have
turned against her, along with Haven Shore’s original populace. Information
recently obtained by this reporter has revealed that fewer than forty one
percent of her voting population supported her continuing activities on the
Council, and she has not participated directly in proceedings for over a month.
Even though she is the sole owner of nearly all of Haven Shore’s assets, and
has strong ties to the new Triton Fleet, I cannot help but wonder how much of
the peace Haven Shore seems to enjoy is just an illusion created by her and the
British Alliance.” Admiral Rice couldn’t help but scowl at the supposition.
“How about you go get recruited and find out for yourself,” she said in
response to the story, dismissing the hologram with a flick of her wrist.
“I’m sorry,
Admiral, it was the best recent news story I could find in the Sunspire’s
database,” said the gentle voice of Gus, her personal artificial intelligence.
“Don’t give it a
second thought,” she replied. It was time for her to walk the ship, and she
wouldn’t do it without looking like a crewmember. Admiral Rice took her
sidearm, a stout, powerful plasma pistol, from her side table drawer and
slipped it into the holster on her upper thigh. “Next time I’ll have you review
it for me though, then you can relay the facts.”
“Along with the
best images of your daughter,” Gus said into her sub-dermal earpiece.
There was no
arguing with him, after a year of using Gus, he’d learned everything there was
to know about her, twice. The first time he’d become highly competent at
predicting her moods and needs, he had to delete himself as a failsafe when
political enemies managed to hack into his database. They got nothing, but she
would make them pay for the setback as soon as she found out who was
responsible, because Gus had to start learning all over again.
“How is the Freeground
Alpha doing?” Admiral Rice asked.
“The wormhole
generator is almost finished charging, and all remaining residents have
evacuated to the primary ring,” Gus replied as he provided an image of the
thick inner ring of Freeground. The lights from thousands of transparent metal
windows made it look alive, well inhabited compared to the rest of the station.
Most of the original rings surrounding Freeground Station were completely dark,
abandoned as all but the most steadfast citizens left for other parts of the
galaxy.
“Perhaps this is
the wrong image,” Gus said, changing the view so it focused on the lighted main
ring.
“It’s all right
for me to grieve, Gus,” Admiral Rice said. “This is the home I came to love,
and it’s near the end of its decline. That’s some consolation.”
“Ah, Freeground’s
population increased to two hundred ninety eight thousand and three last night,
Admiral. Two children were born, both boys.”
“Thank you for
the silver lining.” She made sure her uniform was in good order, a thick
armoured red and black vacsuit, before leaving her sparsely decorated quarters.
The Ironside was a fine ship, one of the last produced by Freeground Shipyards.
It was a direct descendant of the improved Sunspire design, and had already
seen nineteen engagements under the command of her captain, Harold Behr, a man
only a few years her junior, but somehow he looked twenty years older. It was
his twelfth ship, and he’d only lost one in combat.
She walked the
well polished metal halls from her quarters to the port gunnery section, then
to engineering. Only two crewmembers saluted out of the hundred or so she
passed. They were new, unaware that she’d put out a standing order that
crewmembers were to disregard the tradition of saluting the Admiral if they
were working unless they were addressed.
“Admiral, we have
an emergency,” Gus announced in her subdermal communicator. The left side of
Admiral Rice’s vision was filled with an overlay of scrolling sensor data from
the Ironside. She was receiving it at exactly the same time as the bridge, and
recognized what was happening immediately.
“Channel open to
the bridge,” Gus informed her.
“Captain,” was
all she had to say.
“I know, this is
the largest incursion yet,” Captian Behr replied, “Battle Group One is already
responding with energized flak bursts, we’re moving into position.”
It had become
standard operating procedure over the last four months, since the Isek began
their attacks. Opportunists to the core, a large faction of their society
recognized that, with the Order of Eden on one side, and no major allies on the
other, Freeground was truly alone again in a vast empty span of space. The Isek
began jamming Freeground’s communications, then they begain bombarding
missions. They realized after losing an outer ring and nearly a quarter million
people in one of the first attacks, that energized flak and energy shielding
was their only defence. The outer patrols were only so effective, the fleet
they had was not large enough to maintain their borders.
Admiral Rice reviewed
a segment of the sensor data and shook her head, walking into a lift at the
same time. The readings indicated that the Isek were sending clusters of
missiles in from almost all directions. “Battle Groups Two, and three are to
fall back to the departure point, reinforce the energy shielding surrounding
Freeground’s primary ring. We are leaving, Sir.”
“Aye,” Captain
Behr replied.
Admiral Rice
signalled the Sunspire, the lead ship for Battlegroup One to disband and begin
their faster than light journey immediately.
When Admiral Rice
arrived on the bridge, he was finishing relaying the orders to his staff, who
were calmly conducting themselves. She took the seat beside him and immediately
began monitoring the countermeasures. The gleaming hull of the Ironside was as
yet untouched by the long-range attacks as her many gun emplacements fired a
stream of counterpunch rounds. They were made specifically to halt and
obliterate incoming projectiles head-to-head, and the computer was managing
their firing patterns so well that they were able to contribute to the defence
of Freeground Alpha.
“Freeground
Control reports that they only have enough power to create a wormhole to the
near side of the Ironhead Nebula,” Captain Behr said. “It’s a no-go, Ma’am.”
“We’ll see,”
Admiral Rice said. “Open a channel.”
Captain Behr
nodded at his communication’s chief, a young man who looked more like a
security chief from his build. He opened a channel and put the communications
on the bridge’s secondary display, a hologram just to the left of the middle of
the room.
“Admiral Rice,”
said the responder. He was a thin-faced man who always looked a little too high
strung for her liking. He wrung his hands, chewed his fingernails, or scowled
when he though no one was looking. Just a few years ago, the Admiralty would
not have accepted him in their ranks, but needs forced them to advance people
who barely made the grade.
“Admiral Pallon,”
she replied. “We knew this would come, the Isek want to wear us down before
they send their cruisers in to take the last segments of Freeground.”
“We do not have
enough power in the capacitors to open a wormhole through the Ironhead Nebula.
We will arrive on the inside edge, possibly sustain damage thanks to the
particles there, and we will definitely be in Order territory,” Admiral Pallon
replied, turning away from the holographic receiver.
“If we do not
take this opportunity, while our ships are shielded and we have this much power
in hand, we will not be able to leave at all. I am not looking forward to
fighting to the death, or becoming the newest resident in the Isek slave camps,”
she told him. “I’ve already ordered Battle Group One out of the area, and the
rest are falling back.”
“Get them back in
the field! Our defence will not be effective if-“ red light flashed on Admiral
Pallon’s end, bathing the side of his face in its hue.
With a glance at
her command and control console’s screen on her wrist, Admiral Rice could see
that Freeground Station had been struck by a group of missiles. Dormant
sections had lost shielding, and were open to space in hundreds of places. They
were already empty, powered down for the most part, but the decompressing hull
of the massive structure warned at the fate that awaited the main ring of the
station, Freeground Alpha, if something wasn’t done.
“Pallon,
deactivate the shielding surrounding the abandoned sections of Freeground and
apply the energy to the wormhole generator. It’s the only way.”
“I’m sorry,
Admiral Rice, I can’t split my attention between convincing you that we are on
the right course, and keeping things running smoothly,” Admiral Pallon said.
Admiral Rice was
out of her seat and on her way to the main communications console the moment
Admiral Pallon’s image disappeared.
“Give her command
control, Lieutenant Feng,” Captain Behr ordered as she arrived and pushed the
heavily muscled communications officer out of the way.
“Aye,” he
replied, standing back and watching as he resumed his duties at another
communications console.
“Captain, I
regret to inform you that I am about to violate several military and civilian
laws, and you’ll probably have to take me into custody when I’m finished,”
Admiral Rice said.
“I have no idea
what you’re doing or what your intentions could be, so I see no reason to
interfere,” Captain Behr said, feigning ignorance.
“Captain, she’s
entering Freeground Alpha’s remote command codes, probably so she can-“ a
junior communications officer started. He was silenced with a warning look from
Lieutenant Feng. “Right, can’t tell what she’ll do Sir, probably nothing to
worry about,” he trailed off.
The main display
at the front of the bridge focused on the primary ring of Freeground Station.
Its dark hull was alight in places as hundreds of weapon emplacements fired at
incoming missiles. Blue light began to shine from several rows of old emitters
built into the broad surface of its upper sections. They formed a glowing ring,
crowning the thickest, oldest section of the station for several seconds before
a high-compression wormhole opened above it.
“Helm, get us
into formation and inside that wormhole as soon as Freeground Alpha is under
way,” Captain Behr ordered.
“Aye, already on
it, Captain.”
“Admiral Rice!”
shouted Admiral Pallon over the communications band. “You will be court
martialled for this!”
“I don’t care if
both of us aren’t admirals when this is over,” Admiral Rice shouted back, “As
long as we’re both free and alive, I’ve done my duty.” As if to punctuate her
statement, emitters on the opposite side of the Freeground Alpha ring pulsed to
life, pushing the massive ring into the wormhole above it.
The threshold of the
wormhole was surprisingly rough, and Admiral Rice couldn’t help but wonder for
a moment if she’d done the right thing as she watched old armour plating lift
and detach from Freeground Alpha as it transitioned from normal space into the
wormhole.
“Battlegroups Two
and Three are in position, Group One is already out of the area,” Captian Behr
reported.
“Proceed through
the wormhole, this end will only be here for fourteen more seconds,” Admiral
Rice said as she checked the energy readings scrolling across her vision.
All that remained
of Freeground Fleet, thirty-eight ships, made it through with three seconds to
spare, and for those scant seconds Admiral Rice watched as thirty-four massive,
lightless rings were pulverized by Isek missiles. They were the longest three
seconds of her life.
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