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Alrighty, as I promised, the second part that I have written.

As always, I hope you enjoy it, and comments are appreciated and requested.

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continued from "Review and Report"...

11-21-3015

Time Index; 0943 hours GST

MAS Yunius

Sython system, Merxian space

Katy stood in the primary Marine armory of her battlecruiser, smiling to herself slightly. A few Marines and naval ratings were scattered around the mostly empty room, packing the last of the racked weapons and ammo into crates for transport to their new homes. It hadn't actually taken much for High Command to agree to the proposed transfer, a sign, she supposed, of just how many decisions were handled by the Personnel branch. The headquarters staff would agree to almost anything to take one more decision off their list.

Of course, the actual transfer took a surprising amount of effort. Due to the strange bureaucratic intricacies of the military's organization, the departing unit had to take with it literally everything that was assigned to it, even things that would be of just as much use to the incoming unit, technically even down to such ridiculousness as every last grain of gunpowder in the armory's magazine, where the ordnance techs manufactured assault ammo. But, thankfully the task was almost complete, the captain in charge of the move ticking the last items off of his inventory list. Walking up behind the lynx officer, the vixen looked over his shoulder, watching him reach the end of the list with his stylus.

“Sure you got everything Captain?" She asked, the officer pausing to scan the id chip of the last crate before nodding to himself. “Rifles? Ammo? Computer equipment?" Pausing a heartbeat while the officer nodded again, distracted, a teasing note creeping into her voice as she continued. “Armor polish? Elbow grease? Rust remover?"

“Yes ma'am." The captain replied, barely restraining a grin at her comments. The joke was ancient, and yet, still a running theme in the military. “Even packed the cases of spit-shine."

“Good, good." Katy replied, grinning as the last of the armory was cleaned out. Most of the joking terms were so old, no one quite remembered where they had come from, but they still somehow existed in slang of the Corps, all referring to nonexistent, but important sounding items of inventory. “Just making sure."

“No Marine would forget such essential pieces of equipment, Ma'am." The captain assured her, now grinning from ear to tufted ear.

“Certainly not when another unit is liable to steal them." Tyr's voice said, and both officers turned, noticing the coyote officer that had joined them, the canine grinning as well.

“Colonel, good to see you." Katy said, the captain taking the senior Ranger's arrival as his cue to finish the inventory list and sign the pad, following the last crate out of the room. “How are the preparations for relocation coming?"

“Getting there, General." Tyr replied, “Mostly just waiting on the medical report on which of our casualties are stable enough to be moved to the Yunius' sick bay. Most of the rest is already taken care of."

“Well, the dropship wing is making its transition with the last of the supplies." Katy said, leading the way out of the now empty armory and out towards her office. “You should be clear to start moving your battalion by 1100. How long do think it will take?"

“Not long at all, as unfortunate as that is." Tyr replied, sounding regretful. “Most of our surplus supplies went up with the Adaron. I just hope we don't run into another fight before refit. If we do, half my Rangers are going to be fighting with their fists instead of their rifles."

“Don't worry, Colonel." Katy assured him as they walked deeper into the Battlecruiser. “Seranus is the next stop on our list anyway. The Yunius left the repair yard without half of its commissary and medical supplies aboard."

“Same old story." Tyr commented, shaking his head. “I wanted to thank you, by the way, for your report about both the battle here and the incident on Colyon Prime. It made me look pretty damn good."

“My pleasure Colonel," Katy said, smiling. “You were in the right. Oh, I heard a rumor about some commendations and promotions being considered for some of the people in your unit. Quite a long list. Actually, I believe some of the official paperwork should be filed by the time we get to Seranus."

“That was quick..." Tyr said, slowing his pace slightly so Katy would reach the office door before him. “Most of the time, it seems like command takes months to read my reports, if they even get to them at all. Sometimes, I have even gotten demands for reports after I have already gotten a thank you for submitting them."

“Well, I think we can expect a courier to be waiting in system for us when we get to Seranus with more news." Katy said, sounding slightly mysterious as she put her palm on the scanner.

“Why? What makes this battle different?" Tyr asked, following the General inside as the door slid open.

“Well, lets just say a General can pull strings that a Colonel can't." The vixen replied, tapping a few controls on her desk as the door slid shut, the Ranger Colonel's ears popping as the compartment sealed, anti surveillance systems activating around it. When the general indicated it was safe to talk, Tyr let out a breath.

“I have never quite mastered talking about nothing." He said, shaking his head in relief. “Always feels like I am wasting time. Did you find anything in the files you have?"

“Yes, though not as much as I would have liked." Katy replied, dropping into her chair and putting her palm on the desk top, over the reader built into its surface, the system scanning her. One advantage that being a flag officer conferred was the assignment of one of the secure, multifunction consoles that everyone just called a flag desk to save time. Upon reading her DNA, the center of the console suddenly split, the layer of nano-machines incorporated into the material actually disassembling the middle of the display, revealing a storage compartment with a half dozen memory cubes concealed in the secure space. Constructed of a similar material as starship armor, the compartment reassembled and sealed itself at the molecular level each time it was closed, making the storage space impossible to access without a lot of time and heavy duty equipment, and nearly undetectable. Even better, the console was actually manufactured into the ship, not installed later, which meant it couldn't be removed either, and, with privacy at a premium aboard the military vessels, the secure storage was of greater value than a whole year's worth of pay.

Selecting one of the cubes and slipping it into a slot in the console, Katy waited for the nanites to reform the surface, the sight fascinating to watch, as if the holo display was growing itself out of thin air. Once it was back together again, the vixen accessed the device, typing the file name she had looked up. When the text of the document popped up on screen, Katy spun the display with her fingers so Tyr could read it. Scanning the text of the display, the coyote frowned.

“Well, I see what you mean." He said. “Not a whole lot here. It mentions Sython pretty clearly, but not much about what is going on."

“If you look a little deeper, it becomes pretty obvious there were at least three Conclave members making reports," Katy explained, continuing when Tyr gave her a curious look. “It's in the tone. Little bits of personality eventually creep into any report, no matter how hard the writer tries to be official with it."

“Well, Soran is one of them for sure, and I would bet money that Cor'ick is too, though he could really just be a mercenary following a contract, like he claims." Tyr commented, the vixen across from him nodding in agreement. “Maybe General Mis'ker really is the third."

“Well, without the files in the computer core, there is no way to be sure." Katy said, clearing the data from the screen and ejecting the memory cube. “And with intel swarming all over the compound, there is no way we can get to them now." Grinning slyly, Tyr reached into a pocket of his fatigues and produced a flexible crystalline storage sleeve, holding it up with a wink.

“Well, it's a good thing I grabbed a copy of the backup before Intel seized the core then." He said, holding the panel of woven crystal fibers out to the General.

“You sneaky trickster!" She exclaimed, using the old slang term for a coyote, taking the sleeve in amazement. “What made you think to do that in the middle of a battle?"

“Well, years in special ops has taught me to take precautions." Tyr replied, his grin wide as the vixen plugged the panel into the reader. “Its compressed as tight as I could make it, but it still might not have gotten everything. There is only so much I could fit on there."

Technically speaking, because of the way crystalline circuitry worked, it was possible to create just about any shape out of crystal fibers and have it function as a computer, which was precisely why cybernetics could be linked to a person's nervous system, the circuits laid out in a pattern precisely mimicking biological nerves. However, storage sleeves, like the one that Tyr had produced, were remarkably fragile, and once the fibers were broken, the data was lost for good, which was why data tended to be stored in cubes, the crystal circuits reinforced with composite materials, protecting it from destruction. But the benefit of the storage sleeve, as unreliable as it was, was that it could be incorporated directly into armor or clothing, and programmed with a simple program. In this case, the program was designed to automatically copy and compress the contents of any storage device it was connected to, and then regurgitate it when connected to another one.

“Even so, you must have gotten a large chunk of their database." Katy replied, waiting patiently as the device downloaded its contents to her console. As massive as computer cores were, most of the circuitry was actually devoted to processing as opposed to storage, it being where the computer network did its thinking, as it were. But, every computer core also possessed a periodically updated back up of all the data that was stored on the computers connected to it, a sort of last-ditch effort to preserve the information, since cores were almost always shielded and armored, where-as other computers were vulnerable. When the system finished its upload, the display popped up an error message and Tyr swore to himself.

“'Partial copy ; 73%'" he read, shaking his head. “I hope it didn't miss anything important."

“At this point, old friend," Katy said, starting to browse through the files, “Anything we can get is important."

***

11-21-3015

Time Index; 2015 hours GST

Senior officer deck, Transitional Station crew quarters

Asgard system, Terran space

Reaching up as the comm. headset I wore chirped in my ear, I paused a moment, looking around the wide corridor. Despite the usually large number of people that could usually be found on this station, the area was empty for the moment. The Transitional Station was the military's relatively innocuous name for one of the largest artificial structures in the Asgard system, its relative tonnage rivaling even the massive shipyards that ringed the planet. The term 'Space Station' usually conjured up images of relatively cozy and cramped structures in space, their construction as tight as possible to save resources and operating costs. But the Transitional Station was much more like a city in space, a few dozen kilometers across, and housing tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of personnel at any one time. Ever since Asgard became the primary shipyard for the Federation Military, the Navy had needed a place where the crews of entire ships could transition from one ship to another, and building the massive station had been the most efficient, if not exactly most obvious, solution. Deck upon deck of living quarters, supply warehouses and rec areas honeycombed the station, and, with it possessing nearly a hundred docking bays for shuttles and drop ships, it ended up resembling a populous beehive, humming with activity.

“Knight, go." I said into the mike that hugged my jaw line.

“General, Pride." my old friend began. “You wanted an update on the encryption breaking process?"

“Yes, any progress?" I asked, continuing down the corridor towards my destination.

“Some." He replied. “Angel says he is close to cracking the last layer of encryption, though he can't promise how much longer its going to be. He says its giving him a little trouble, which I guess is saying something."

Turning left into another corridor, I shook my head slightly. While it was certainly handy to have a master code breaker with us, it had been a struggle to vet the intel officer. I had been inside a lot of minds over the years, and nothing, not even trying to break my way into the minds of captured Merxian operatives while in Black Ops, had quite prepared me for the experience of reaching into the mind of a cyborg like Angel. It would have been quite the experience even without the cybernetic enhancements, because the savant's mind worked at a pace faster than any computer, making connections and seeing patterns I couldn't have made out if I spent days thinking about it, but with them...

It was like trying to work out a maze with a blindfold over your eyes. The biological parts I could read fine, even if they worked like lightning, but when a synapse connected to the machine, it was like bumping into a solid wall, a dead end, though I could still 'see' where the thought should have gone. And, I could feel the echo of thoughts when they jumped cybernetic connections, small arcs lighting the darkness. It was like chasing ghosts. Weirdest by far was when a thought jumped from the machine circuits to the biological tissue. I couldn't explain it more clearly than to say that, though I could read them like any other thought, they just felt fundamentally wrong, my mind instinctually trying to reject them. The experience had ended up giving me a splitting headache, but I had managed to learn enough to satisfy my concerns.

“We need to know what is on that thing." I continued. “Tell him to keep at it."

“He is." Pride stated into my ear. “I doubt I could get him to stop, even if we wanted him to. I don't think he is going to let this puzzle beat him. I'll contact you again if there is any sudden development. Pride, out."

Nodding to myself, I finally spied my destination, reaching up and unclipping the headset from my ear as I neared the door. Turning it off as I slipped it into a pocket of my flight suit, I tapped the open control, revealing a small conference room. Walking in and settling behind the desk, I let the computer interface scan my clearance chip and smiled when it blinked into life, waiting for a command. Slipping the small data chip into the display, I brought up the files it contained, settling back to wait. A few minutes later, right on time, the door chimed.

“Open." I said, the door sliding open to reveal a tall man with dirty blonde hair, a new ragged scar narrowly missing his left eye. When the Commander stepped in and saluted, I took a moment to examine him. His expression was neutral, the practiced bearing of a soldier in formal settings, but, even though he wore the Navy's comfortable dark blue half dress uniform, there was something in his stance, something about his expression, that said he would much rather be wearing combat armor.

“Commander Alex Cornell, reporting as ordered, sir." He stated, holding his salute until I returned it.

“Have a seat Commander." I ordered and he sat down, his posture stiff, almost uncomfortable, like he was having trouble relaxing. “I have a question that I would like to ask you, and I wanted to do so in person, so we could have a chance to really talk." When he nodded, I continued, reaching out towards his mind, trying to get a feel of why he was so uncomfortable. “I have seen your record Commander, and you have quite the impressive list of commendations, and fleet command clearly appreciates what you did on the Kodiak, since you are up for the Naval Cross. Your second, I understand." He didn't seem to react beyond a slight tightening of his jaw, but my mental touch suddenly ran into a solid wall, stopped cold by his mental defenses. Clearly, he had had a lot of practice keeping psychics out. Knowing I didn't want him getting defensive, I didn't push it. “Yet, I have noticed a...shall we say, discrepancy, in your postings. You have held the rank of Commander for three years, nearly twice as long as the two other Commanders on board, making you senior to everyone except Captain Jamieson, not to mention your extensive combat and leadership experience and yet, you were assigned as Tactical officer, and fourth in command, not First Officer." When he didn't reply, I frowned. “Why the lower posting, Commander?"

“You would have to ask the Captain, sir." He replied stiffly and I raised an eyebrow. The other officer knew damn well why he had been given a lesser post, but was playing the 'official answers only' card.

“Oh, come now, Commander," I prompted, “You can do better than that."

“Permission to speak candidly, sir?" He asked and I nodded. “I don't play well with others."

“Care to explain that remark?" I asked and he gave a frustrated sigh.

“Sir, my entire career has been spent being passed over." he stated, shaking his head. “No matter what ship I get posted to, no matter what I accomplish, I'm always given the lowest duty I can possibly be assigned." Scrolling the file that hovered between us down, I scanned the other officer's service record, finally finding the notation that stood out.

“Let me guess, since Kalindra?" I asked and he nodded. “So tell me about it."

“Alright. Right before the fleet secured the Merxian supply depot at Kalindra, I was given a battlefield commission to Ensign," He began, finally settling back in the chair, his expression angry. “Before that, I was a Chief Ordnance Tech, so when the word was passed for volunteers to go in and help secure the station, I signed up, since they hadn't found a place for me yet. I guess I should have known better, but hell, I was riding high, a brand new officer. Top of the world." Cornell snorted, shaking his head. “I was assigned to a frontline boarding party led by a full Lieutenant, and we were assigned to make sure a munitions storeroom was secure, and the second I saw the place, I had a bad feeling. I tried to warn the Lieutenant, but he brushed me off like I was nothing. 'Course, I couldn't leave well enough alone and I spoke up, loud and clear, telling him we shouldn't go in there, that there were probably a hundred booby traps just waiting for Terrans to come in. He told me to stow it, and I tried to order the rest of the team to stay out of the storeroom. He shut me down, hard; ordered me to stand aside while the rest of the team went in. While they were still walking in, he dressed me down for insubordination, then, just as the last man passed the door, the first trap went off." He closed his eyes at that point, shaking his head. “It was a concussion charge, just far enough inside to be triggered when a whole group had entered. It was nasty enough to knock half the squad unconscious even with sealed armor. Then, I saw the second trap start to blow, and that was it. The auto-sealers barely activated in time, sealing the bay with most of the team inside. All we found of them when we pried the doors open was ash."

“Damn." I exclaimed and he nodded.

“Of course, the lieutenant laid it all at my feet." The Commander continued. “He said that if I hadn't distracted him, he would have noticed the booby trap, and the team would still be alive. It was bull, and the Captain knew it. But, he was right about one thing. I shouldn't have tried to go around him. It was stupid, and I knew it the second I said it. No official reprimand was ever filed, but the next week, I was transferred to a new ship." The Commander let out a bitter chuckle, as he continued. “I never learn either. Whenever I was placed under an officer that endangered the crew under his command without reason, I couldn't help it. I always spoke up, and its always the same story. Being right doesn't excuse it. Over the years, I just learned to accept it, I'm never going to be put in command of anything important; they wouldn't trust me. So, instead of thinking about that, I have just concentrated on doing the best job I can in combat, which, ironically, has gotten me promoted high enough that I am nothing but trouble for ship commanders." Despite the rising heat of his words, I couldn't help the smile that started to tug at my lip, an idea forming in my head. “So, with all due respect, General, since I am probably going to die never being charge of anything, I cannot imagine why I am here."

“Well, I was going to offer you command of a ship." I stated, waving a hand dismissively. “but if you aren't interested..."

“What?!" he exclaimed, and I grinned at him. “Sir, you can't be serious."

“Oh, I assure you, I am dead serious, Commander." I replied. “The Zephyr is yours, if you want it."

“Sir...Why?" He asked, shocked. “Why me? There have to be dozens of other candidates."

“Commander, it is my opinion that caring more about the sailors under your command than being politic with superior officers is not a character flaw." I explained, watching as the other officer's posture finally relaxed, my announcement catching him off guard. “Your record speaks for itself. You have the skills, and you have the kind of guts I want. And besides, the simplest solution to your personality conflicts seems to me to be to put you in charge of the whole ship; that way, you have no one to disagree with." I waited a moment for the offer to sink in, the Naval officer looking stunned. Finally, he spoke, asking a question in tone that said he still couldn't believe what I had offered.

“I would be in actual command of the ship?" He asked and I nodded. “Not second to some Admiral or something?"

“Yeah. Free and clear. Not even part of a squadron." I said, my smile spreading. “You get to pick your officers, with the exception of the medical staff and the Security Marines. You would be reporting directly to me." At his perplexed expression, I continued. “The Zephyr is the command ship of the Marine aviation division, so technically, you don't have an Admiral to report to. And believe me, I'll leave the running of the ship to you. I have enough to deal with." When he was silent for a good minute, I knew what he was going to say before I even asked the question. “So what do you say, Captain?" I asked, putting a little extra note of finality on the rank. After a moment longer of silence, he finally smiled as well.

“I accept, General." He said, taking the hand I offered him. “Though I do have a request, if you don't mind." I nodded for him to continue and he shrugged. “The Security Marines on the Kodiak saved my life more times than I can count. If its all the same to you, I want them."

“No objections, Captain." I replied. “We are going to have augment their numbers, but I'll do what I can to make sure they stick with you."

***

11-21-3015

Time Index; 2150 hours GST

Unknown Location

Terran border space

“Sir?" The messenger began, his voice echoing in the shadows of the holodome, the soft music cutting out when he spoke. The room was essentially a 360 degree holographic display, set up around a perfectly clear antigravity platform, suspended in the exact center so someone could float in any orientation they chose and be completely surrounded by images. The engineering was insanely delicate, and fantastically expensive, but it made it a true wonder, capable of incredible displays. But, the moment he spoke, it went almost pitch black, tiny pinpricks like stars displayed on the surface indicating open files, the lone occupant of the room nearly invisible in the dim light.

“What is it?" Jack MacArthur replied softly, not even looking in the intruder's direction.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir." the messenger continued, standing with his hands behind his back. “You asked to be informed when Mis'ker reported in."

“Yes." MacArthur stated. The messenger took a breath, knowing that the word was both a statement and a prompt.

“Mis'ker reports that the breach is contained." he recited, “The data core was seized before it could be viewed, and the Alliance military has no tangible evidence of the Conclave's existence." the messenger swallowed nervously before finishing his report. “Except for Arn Soran, who is currently under high security detention. He wishes to know what we are going to do about that, given that Soran could reveal a great deal. He has asked if you want him to mount an escape."

“An escape?" MacArthur repeated, giving an imperceptible shake of his head, “Why? With no proof to back it up, there is nothing he could tell them that could harm the Conclave. No, he has been using our funds and resources for his own agenda for years. He will go to prison and rot. And later, when our point has sunk in, he will suffer an accident. Tragically, it will be fatal. Pass the judgment along to Mis'ker and tell him to monitor the situation. The Tare corporation will likely be put under his jurisdiction for the foreseeable future and I expect him to do a better job than Soran did."

“At once sir." The messenger said, bowing his way out of the holodome as the music came back, the displays blinking to life once more…