Chapter 36: Tour de Fringe

March 2^nd, 2279

There was clarity in the air, that much was for sure, but before Basil could return to sleep (he was hoping to be sent more intel into his dreams, happily upping his dosage, angering Dr. Boddins), he had to find out where they would send him and his weary crew next. Thus, he had to drag his fuzzy mind and aching body up to the command deck of Kappa 3. The traders ignored him this time, as he came upon the more active decks, still not sure if he was just some drunkard or indeed some kind of trading oversight guy with an alcohol problem, but they went for the safe option and that day, they were only selling the most boring tripe imaginable, some hats that said KAPPA 3 on them, some models of famous ships (the Rubicon not being among them yet) and some outerwear of all the different departments, so one could in theory play a service worker from Kappa 3 with minimal investment, a massive security issue nobody in the chaotic League had yet thought about, as hard as it was to believe.

As soon as Basil entered to command center in itself, changes were clear as day. First, there were the voices. Under Petumbio, people had been happily chatting with each other, like busy bees debating honey. Now, they were hushed and neatly lined up at their workstations. Lieutenant Marcía Zhang, too, wasn’t at her post, leaving an empty desk behind, so Basil immediately sent her a message to join his crew. She had been close to Hays and Petumbio and had to still know a few more things, which she would tell him before realizing what a mess the Rubicon was and leaving, no harm done. Basil chuckled at the thought of just recruiting another Comms officer to piss off Nocks. As he continued up the stairs into Petumbio’s formerly forested and refreshing office, all of that was gone. It was now the most painfully average office in the fleet, imminently telling Basil that the next few minutes would be unpleasant – because which person in their right mind would remove plant life that had given the office such charme and friendliness, and most of all the best air on the station? Petumbio must have taken years to adapt his plants to all races coming through his door to make all of them feel comfortable. Who would roll that back?
The reason sat upright with a very straight spine and was very ready to receive the problematic visitor. She was a human woman around 40 years of age with the rank of admiral – which was an absolute novelty in the fleet at that age and race, another sign of things rapidly looking better from the human standpoint. Her thin blond hair was pulled back with a violent force as if it was a crime punishable by death on her head to not be straight in anything. It kind of looked like a wig one size too small, revealing a tall forehead and a triangular side profile, adding to the impression that someone was turning inside pressures into outside pressures. The walls showed all recommendations and promotions she had ever gotten, but no personal items or pictures were to be seen anywhere. Even Petumbio’s stylish desk had made space for a fleet standard unit ­– giving the whole room more the look of the entryway hall of a business doing shady things, trying to maintain a professional appearance – than the office of someone taking care of 100,000 lives aboard a station that might – one day – again find itself higher in the priority of things, as it was looking out of the Frontier into the unruly Fringe.

Basil approached and saluted incorrectly, not as a mind game, just not used to it and worn out by the events prior.

- Have a seat, Captain Basil.

Even the number of seats had been reduced to three overall, underscoring the top-down nature of her meetings, as not many voices were needed. Of course, the comfy couch Adano had been lounging on, gazing at his SFC Maka and expecting an easy win for his career was gone as well and the large window behind her table had been blinded and turned into a newsfeed, currently, there was a report of a tribe accusing the Manqs of horrendous crimes during their flight into League space. It seemed as if the Manqs kept all scientific personnel for themselves, and only let the less useful people pass.

There was also the celebratory decommissioning of the battlecruiser SFBC Hector, which would now serve as a development vessel, having been replaced by the later Istakk battlecruisers, of which six were ready and six more to be built. What exactly was to be done with the Hector, was not mentioned, which peaked Basil’s interest, but he was interrupted in this thought.

- When will your ship be ready for its next missions?

- Hard to say, we’re still waiting for parts.

- Hard to say isn’t good enough, Captain Basil. Which parts?

Basil swiped her the current list by Feterni and Perlas, a file ballooning since they both wanted way more than they needed in case of field repairs. This list obviously did not include the secret deliveries both Feterni and Perlas were receiving from their own people, since both governments slightly stepped up their support for the ship that would give them much needed answers about their allies they were becoming weary of. What the list did include, however, was the Senate’s greenlighting of all the Rubicon’s requests, in an attempt to keep discussions around why a ship needed to be refitted that much as quiet as possible. The admiral had to sign it off.

- I see.

- May I know your name, Admiral?

The Admiral’s lips thinned in her face, which used to be oval but was going triangular with age, which was strange, as clearly, she had taken care of her facial updates, but never changed her facial expression of anger.

- I am Fleet Admiral Hemlin. And I have orders for you.

- I am all ears.

- You will do a full sweep of the Fringe, taking care of whatever the fleet had no capacities for recently. Your first stop is in Lalande, some race has made LL5 their home and they say they are ready to join the fleet, but we don’t know much where they came from apart from beyond the military demarcation line. You are to meet with them and evaluate them. The frigate SFF Sel’tis did a short stop there, and found them well set up on the terraformed planet already, leading to questions, as to where refugees get all the material.

Your second stop will be in GJ725, we have very strong pirate activity there, someone has built a capable fleet and even took down two of our own frigates. Find out who it is and eliminate them. Noone has survived an encounter with them, so we have no idea where their base is or how they operate. I’m told you deal well with pirates, captain?

Basil wasn’t sure how to respond, as she could be referring to his alliance with Ton which might have been obvious to anyone taking a closer look despite their efforts to keep things on the hush. But then again, she could simply mean the two pirate vessels and / or the syndicate vessels the Rubicon already had painted on the side of her hull, a tradition of old Basil had reintroduced, the latest addition being the SFC Maka. He left a lot of space for further victims, too, just like the engineers had left a lot of space on the wall of faces in the mess hall, both precautions that would come in handy. Basil decided to play an idiot.

- Yea, hunting pirates is pure fun, you don’t have to hold back and their ships crack easily.

Fleet Admiral Hemlin gave Basil a superior look, as if they were at a festival and he was a man urinating against a tent.

- Next, you will get to Zeta Reticuli, the local government is debating a secession from the League and this is a precedence we cannot allow for. Stop this at any costs, short of violence. We suspect a third party at play.

- Any guesses at who that might be?

- Anything possible. Local opposition, Manqs, Nekolis, no clear suspects. Anyways, finally, you will enter the neutral zone and pick up an Oopid scientist wanting to change sides, you will get a coded message when and where you should be. Is that clear?

- Why don’t we pick up the Oopid not first thing, seems like we’re wasting time...

- That is none of your concern, captain. Repair your ship and be out in space in three days. That would be all, dismissed.

Basil nodded, and got up to leave. The game had just become much clearer. The Rubicon was simply sent out far away from interesting things to stumble across. Basil would finish the first three missions at haste, before having a look at what their old foes were doing. A plan was developing inside his head as he was leaving, seeing the outline of the large plant pots that had made Petumbio so likeable just weeks earlier.

Last on the agenda was to get his rifle and take Lieutenant Supü to his talk with Korolev, as they were both waiting, him in front of the ship being stared down by the marines (grinning and holding a bag for what they figured his head was), her already in the interrogation chamber, fixing the missing bolts Ka’al had removed to unnerve interrogees. She was panicking, for there were many reasons to remove her from the Rubicon, only some of them known well, and she absolutely needed this ship. Finally, Supü took place in the interrogators chair, which was adapted to the much thinner Mellir still, he almost filled her full field of vision.

Basil decided to lean in a corner, watching from the sidelines for now.

Lieutenant Supü started his one-branch-show.

- Lieutenant Korelev, I am Lieutenant Supü, Internal Security abord Kappa usually, but the Senate Committee on Counterintelligence has asked me to relay some questions to you.

Basil was observing Korolev, who flushed red in the face. Scientists were simply bad at poker, that’s what made them reliable researchers, he thought.

- Go ahead.

What came out of her was supposed to sound confident, but it sounded more like she knew the game was up.