Tales Around Blue Blossom

The bridge hummed quietly as the human crew moved about their jobs to keep the star vessel functioning. Though they were not in any sort of danger, one never assumed you were safe. An incorrect coordination, a surprise attack, a failed system, and all the four hundred and fifty personnel would be lost. Thankfully the Earth Alliance Navy knew how to build starships, even if they weren’t very pretty.

That would be how exactly Lieutenant Commander Sinclair Barrett would have described his first command. She was long but stubby, her entire design built along the cannon that was attach to the bottom and along the length of her spine, shielded by the short wings for high atmospheric maneuvers.

“Status?” Sinclair asked to the young man sitting in front of him, the tri-panels of the pilot surrounding him.

“We’re holding course towards the Artemis Outpost and making good time. Light engines have us at 1.1c of light. Estimated arrival is still two days, thirty-two hours.”

“Thank you, Mister Young.”

Sinclair leaned back steepling his fingers in front of his face as he watched the shimmering warble on the bridge screen. There was no reason to have it on, but it gave him the feeling that he was looking outside like the ship masters of old.

The bulkhead door that separated the bridge from the corridor leading up to it hissed and ground open. Sinclair looked over pushing a strand of brown hair out of his eyes. His eyes made contact with his first officer for a moment and both eyes were filled with amusement. Trailing behind her were a gaggle of people who looked like they hadn’t even left their teens yet. Their black uniforms with silver high collars bearing the emblems of cadets.

“Commander,” Naledi Mwangi said with a nod. Naledi was pretty in that military way, her dark skin that matched her uniform and shaven head giving her a fierce vibe. Sinclair had heard that Naledi’s family were descent of the Ndebele tribes on Earth before they migrated with the Innocentia. The blue rank insignia of two stars signifying she was a Lieutenant Commander as he was.

The cadets stopped quickly coming to attention though their eyes were filled with awe and wonder. Sinclair had forgotten how mythic starship commanders were among the fleet. Why was he surprised? Facing the void with only their wits and their crew.

“At ease,” Sinclair said with a nod and standing, place his hands behind his back. This was a nice interruption.

“We just finished the work tour of engineering, Commander Barrett,” Mwangi started. “Permission to show the bridge.”

“Granted,” Sinclair said his eyes roaming over the fresh faces wondering if he looked just like this when his first captain saw him. “Cadet…Bangs.”

The young woman with blond hair stood even straighter, her eyes becoming wide.

“Ye…yes, sir!”

“First, unlock your knees or you’re going to pass out,” he said with a chuckle. “Second. Can you provide a run down on the ship you are present on?”

“Aye aye, sir! We are aboard the TCV Prinz Eugen, a Sotatsu Class light cruiser named after the Japanese historical artist Tawaraya Sotatsu who invented the tarashikomi painting style. The initial Sotatsu design was made by the Cosmotica Republic and given to the Confederacy for production at the Mars Shipyards. There are one hundred and thirty-two in operation within our territories. The Prinz Eugen has a complement of four hundred and fifty-two crew, can support the max capacity of six hundred and three in emergency situations. Armed with four dual barrel kinetic cannons with two on the starboard hull and the other two on the port. There is a rapid attack nighthawk missile launcher on the aft and along the spine we have a Tier-2 Meson lance emitter.”

Sinclair gave the cadet a nod with approval. “Now tell me, Cadet. Why did the Cosmotica strap a cannon designed for a capital ship to something this small?”

“It was created as part of an initiative to provide more defense against governments of more advanced technology.”

Sinclair nodded again with approval and then went for the question that always tripped up most of them.

“And tell me Cadet Bangs. Why was this a stupid design?”

The cadet froze, her eyes somehow going wider and they flicked over to Nadeli who was watching.

“I…I don’t know, sir.”

“Anyone?” Sinclair asked looking at the others.

“Because the Sotatsu Class cannot power all their weapons at the same time,” a young man spoke up in the back. “The meson lance requires a tremendous amount of power to charge and fire so it’s siphoned directly from the null drive which provides almost no power to the rest of the weaponry if one did not want to drop shields.”

“Excellent.” Sinclair said. “You are?”

“Cadet Michael Sutton, sir.”

Sinclair turned back to look at the bridge. “Our ship is very important part of the defense of the Confederacy, but she is a design of desperation. What happened last year?”

“We encountered a new civilization. One called the Xaltean Empire, “Sutton continued taking the lead from the other cadets. “Their technology is more advanced than ours and with the fear of invasion, the Fleet created as many ships as they could between us and them.”

“Correct. That’s why they have us flying an overpowered cannon along the border.”

“Isn’t it inappropriate to call out such flaws?” One cadet offered. “The Confederacy is doing what it can.”

“You must know your weakness if you’re going to survive out here,” Sinclair pointed out. “If you didn’t know about this power issue and tried to power everything…?”

He let that hang as they looked between each other.

“Then…what do you do?” Cadet Bangs asked.

“You think and improvise. Fight with the army you have, not the one you want.”

Even at his young age, Sinclair always loved bringing out this soap box as the old saying went. He did not have a chance to continue when there was a trill from a panel. He broke away to look at the Ensign flying the vessel. That person had a frown on his face.

“What is it, Ensign?”

“I’m detecting energy readings 3.61 astronomical units out from our position. Sensors are trying to identify.”

The whole lecture was immediately by the wayside as Sinclair returned to his seat and tapped a button extended a screen for him to see the data.

“It’s streams of plasma and evidence of photonic and gamma bursts. It’s coordinated.”

“Weapons fire,” Naledi had said taking her seat. The cadets had immediately moved to the side of the bridge.

“Silhouette readings?”

“Sending over to you now.”

The panel lit up with data which caused Sinclair to frown even more.

“Those are Xaltean Silhouettes,” Naledi said under her breath for him to see. “The smaller ones, I’m not sure.”

“We’re picking up a signal,” the ensign said as his fingers flew across the board.

“Pipe it through.”

The words that broke across the speakers were not in English or any other language of the Confederacy.

“Stelvonu me xavi betixae! Shiv xaleb nata ni heshutmael na! Tavun na benea aeshila!”

That was Xaltean. Commander Sinclair straightened in his seat, his eyes narrowing. “That’s a distress call. They’re under attack by slavers.”

Naledi’s eyebrow went up. “You speak Xaltean?”

“I’ve picked up some words,” he grinned. Sinclair then turned to Ensign at the helm.

“Plot an interception course to the signal location. Send a squawk towards Outpost Artemis and let them know we are responding to a distress call. Dump our logs along with it.”

“Sir?” The man said confused.

“Did I stutter, ensign?” Sinclair asked his voice growing cold.

“No, sir.” He quickly said turning back to his panel.

“I’ll say what he’s struggling to,” Naledi said quietly with concern in his voice. “That’s across the border. We barely got the ceasefire in place and now we’re going to be going right over, guns blazing I assume.”

Sinclair turned to her, his gray eyes locking on her own. “You know where I stand on things like this.”

“I understand sticking our nose into Wanderers Accord business and rescuing those Fragmentist vessels. We’ve been ordered to guard the border.”

“Do I have to quote Naval Code Seven section two?” He asked trying to keep the smile from his face. He appreciated her trying to be the voice of reason even as irritating as it was.

“Responding to any distress calls was written for Confederate ships and those within our territory.”

“That’s not how I read it, but I understand.”

Turning away, Commander Barrett depressed a button on his seat. “Crew, this is Commander Barrett. I am about to order the Prinz Eugen across the border to respond to a Xaltean distress call. Anyone who wishes to protest the action needs to register it with their supervisor immediately so it can be sent with our log dump.”

With that done, the officer turned back to his helmsman who hadn’t even flinched. “Ensign?”

“Course?”

Good man.

“Speed 1.77c. Alert Tactical to warm up the kinetic cannons and the missile racks. I want us ready in case we need it.”

“Need it? We’re charging right in,” Naledi continued. “If these attacks don’t shoot first, we could be looking down the guns of a few Xaltean vessels. They’re not going to appreciate us violating the treaty.”

Sinclair sat in his chair and grinned at his first officer. “Faith, Commander. You have to have faith.”

It took everything not to cackle at the look of amused indignation from the ex-Sheppard of Celestianity.

***