The Admiral and the Assistant

Shab and Burin watched the traffic streaming into the sector. Shab was leaned forward, speaking into her console, clinging tiredly to her professional air.

"Hauler 08, I respect that you were here first, but I have to get the cargo train out of the way so that everyone has room to maneuver," she said with professional weariness. "Please pull aside from the jumphole line so they can enter."

"Some folks still stuck on school rules for lining up, huh?" Burin said, a half-smile quirking his face.

Shab sighed and scrubbed at her face.

"We've only been doing traffic this way for..." she checked her watch "...seventy years now. You'd think they'd get the memo, eventually."

Burin chuckled. "Well, keep at it," he said. "Sooner or later some of them are bound to figure it out."

She gave him a tired smile and turned back to directing the heavy flow of traffic miles above Techterra.

Burin "hmm"ed at his console.

"What's up?" Shab asked.

"Look at that ship. Where'd it come from?" Burin pointed at his console.

Shab paused her argument with another long hauler to glance over.

"Probably a rookie hauler that wandered into the inbound jumphole lanes. Direct him back to his lane."

"No, but... I don't don't have record of them coming in through any of the jumpholes. He's got no transponder, and... that's a lot of mass."

Shab frowned as she looked more closely at Burin's console.

"What the what?" She peered at the readings. Burin leaned back to give her a clear view. "That can't be right. Re-calibrate your sensors. I'll check it from my side." Shab turned back and tapped at her console. Her frown deepened. "Well, it's not your sensor array. At least, not just your sensor array."

"Should I stop recalibrating?"

"No, go ahead. It's past time to do that anyway. We'll put traffic on hold for a minute while I contact them."

She leaned forward and spoke into her console.

"To the unidentified vessel bearing two-four-two, declination seven-five, your transponder is not transmitting. Please state your designation and cargo."

No response.

"I say again, unidentified vessel, state your designation and cargo. You are currently blocking all traffic over Techterra."

The airwaves were quiet.

"Okay, contact Techterra Ground Defense, just in case," Shab told Burin. "No telling what these guys are up to. Could be a medical emergency with the pilot." She shook her head. "It's probably nothing, but better safe than sorry." Burin nodded and began the process.

"Unidentified vessel, be aware that you are violating Ceon 12 flight path regulations. Please be aware that this could result in heavy fines and loss of flightspace privileges. Respond immediately."

"TDF has been notified," Burin said. He swore quietly as he reviewed his console. "A few ships are jumping out without authorization. Should I flag them?"

"Don't bother, as long as they're not shifting lanes or getting too close to anyone else."

Burin's brow wrinkled. "Shab, did you do anything with the Imperial relay?"

"No, why would I?"

Burin pointed at his console.

"It's sending a signal out on all Navy channels. A real screamer."

"What the what?" She glared at his console. "Okay, I'm deep-scanning this guy. We'll send the data to Ground Defense. Something screwy's going on here." She tapped at her console. A visual popped up on their shared monitor.

They stared at the visual in silence for a moment.

"What the what is that?" Shab said breathlessly.

A massive, jagged sphere hung over Ceon 12. As they watched, tiny grey-green ships began wriggling out of the countless holes in the surface of the boneship.

Grimthorn sat bolt upright in his bunk. The lights in their bedroom were flashing red. Kinnit sat up more slowly, rubbing her eyes.

"Grimthorn?" she said.

"The Feeders," he said. "They've been detected."

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Adrenaline forced Kinnit's eyes open.

Without a further word, they rose, quickly dressed, and ran for the bridge.

Old Master Chief Jack Lonharrt-- Chief Jack, to everyone that knew him-- stood in the control room of the Techterra Ground Defense Force, his hands clasped behind his back. He wore a white uniform that matched his white beard. His face was hard as he watched the data streaming across the massive screen that covered one wall. Around him were rows of operators, sitting at their consoles.

"Fully charge all ground cannons," he said. His voice was gravelly and quiet, but weighty with authority. "I want every defense prepared to engage."

"Yes, sir!"

He watched the mass overhead, then waved a Petty Officer over.

"Go to Admiral Dure," he said. "Tell him I want authorization to unlock the Slingshot. Run!"

"Sir!" the Petty Officer dashed off.

"Sir!" another Petty Officer burst into the control room. "Those little ships are headed for the surface! There are thousands of them!"

The old Master Chief nodded. He turned to one of the junior officers at a console.

"Lem, any word from CenCom?"

"Message coming through now, sir." The officer paused. "We are clear to engage all unknown vessels."

Chief Jack nodded grimly.

"So be it. All stations are weapons free. Commence firing."

"Sir! A report from the Ninth Fleet! They're sending us some data on these invaders!"

The old Master Chief frowned.

"Those idiots couldn't have sent us this earlier?" He scanned the data on the screen. "Sparse enough information anyway. Well, we'll get some more for them. Give me visual."

Views from various defensive cannons scattered around Techterra appeared on the screen. Small, round, gray-green ships were descending in countless numbers. The Chief Jack grunted.

"They look like scarab beetles." He frowned. "Don't wait for them to get in range," he said. "Open fire, let's see if we can't disrupt their formation."

On the screen, the heavy defensive cannons began shooting at the incoming fleet. The video was silent, but the images were filled with sparks as the cannons began hammering bright red bolts of energy into the sky over Techterra.

Chief Jack frowned as he watched the gray-green ships tumble as they were hit by blaster bolts. They simply corrected and moved back into formation, spreading out into a hexagonal grid over the city.

"We're not doing any damage. Those little things are tougher than they look. We need more power," he said calmly. The air in the control room was tense but everyone was controlled, competent. Chief Jack marked one of the small ships on the screen. "All cannons, aim at that ship. See if we can make them bleed."

There was a brief pause on the video as all the defensive cannons re-oriented. The video suddenly filled with bright red bolts as all the cannons unleashed their fire at once.

The little scarab ship caught the bolts, one after another, spinning and flipping, soaking up dozens of hits. Thick black smoked poured out of the vessel, then it disintegrated, pieces of the flaming ship raining down on Techterra.

Chief Jack smiled wolfishly.

"We can knock them out," he said. "All cannons, let's narrow it down. Quad off, four cannons per ship. Synchronize fire as much as possible. Prioritize any vessels that get near the defensive cannons."

"Sir!" cried one officer. "Shouldn't we prioritize civilian sectors?"

"If they take out our cannons, then they can pick the civilian sectors apart at their leisure," he replied gruffly. "Protect the cannons. That's the civilians' only defense right now."

"Yes, sir!"

The control room fell silent as the guns continued to fire. More and more scarab ships flooded in. Red crackles began emitting from some of the ships. The screen continued streaming data. Chief Jack frowned.

"Sir, there are too many!" one officer cried. "We can't shoot them down fast enough!"

Chief Jack nodded.

"Then we'll knock down as many of those scarabs as we can. And pray that the rest of the Navy gets here before we're gone."

Grimthorn stood on the captain's dais, Kinnit at his elbow.

"What's our ETA?" he asked.

"Another eight point four minutes, sir, over one more jump," Kinnit replied.

"And the other fleets?"

"We'll be the first to arrive in the Ceon system. Current estimates suggest that Admiral Cora Din with the Fifth Fleet will be next, in fifteen point nine minutes, then Admiral Balia with the Third fleet in seventeen minutes even."

Grimthorn frowned.

"What of Admiral Dermot of the Seventh?"

"Unknown, sir. They're still getting underway."

Grimthorn pinched his lips tightly.

"Very well. I want every weapon in the fleet hot. Clear the jumphole as soon as you're in-sector. Recon ships, I want full scans of everything. Get regular bursts of data out. I don't want to lose any data about this enemy if a recon ship is destroyed."

"Where should we send the data to, sir?" Kinnit asked.

Grimthorn raised an eyebrow at her.

"Signals and Intelligence. You know that."

"Sir..." Kinnit said hesitantly. "Isn't that headquartered at CenCom? In Techterra? Down there on Ceon 12?"

Grimthorn opened his mouth angrily, but paused.

"Good point, Lieutenant. Noted. Send all data to the Atlas Station in the Vippe system."

"To the Naval Academy, sir?"

"They have the second-best signal processing equipment in the galaxy." He took a deep breath. "Hopefully this ends up being a meaningless discussion. Hopefully the data's only ever useful as a... historical curiosity."

"Yes, sir."

"Admiral!" called Lieutenant Renning. "Emergency comms from Ceon 12!"

"Play it."

Chief Jack appeared on the screen, unruffled, though the scene behind him was chaos. Parts of the main screen could be seen. It was filled with ships and cannon fire. The video was staticky and choppy.

"Lieutenant Renning, see if you can stabilize that some," Admiral Stonefist said.

"Yes, sir." He twiddled with his console, and the image became coherent, if not crisp. The audio began to come through.

"--peats. This is Master Chief Jack Lonharrt of Techterra Ground Defense Force. We are under attack by an overwhelming force of unknown enemy scarab ships. Techterra is on the verge of being overrun. We are holding them at bay for the moment, but if we lose any guns, our surface defense will quickly collapse. Send all available assistance at once. Recommend general quarters for all incoming vessels, these scarabs are extremely hostile. Message repeats. This is Master Chief Jack Lonh--"

"It's a loop, sir," said Lieutenant Renning.

"Discontinue message," Admiral Stonefist said. "Send acknowledgement and fleet reinforcement time estimates to the Master Chief." He leaned on the railing surrounding the captain's dais with his knuckles. "Hang on, old hand," he said quietly. "We'll be there soon."

"Sir," Lieutenant Phet said. "We're at the last jumphole."

"Very well," Admiral Stonefist said, standing up straight. He addressed the fleet. "We don't know what we're walking into, but we know how to fight, and how to defend Imperial citizens. Standard combat entry order. All ships, get your weapons hot, and let's go."

And the Ninth Fleet began pouring into the jumphole.