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Alrighty, so this is a little longer than usual, but, that is what happens when you have an idea...

Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

As always, comments are appreciated and requested.

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continued from 'In Sython's Shadow'...

12-2-3015

Time Index; 1256 hours GST

MAS Yunius

Seranus system, Merxian space

The usually bustling main hanger of the Yunius was almost totally silent, the fighters that called it home having been lined up against the walls of the bay in neat, tight rows. Here and there among them were the polished hulls of newly manufactured replacement craft, the squadrons having been brought back up to full strength when they had arrived in system. For once, the carrier’s fighter mechanics were nowhere in sight, their tools and supplies stored as neatly as their charges. Beneath the glow panels in the ceiling, the deck plates shone brightly, the space having been cleaned and polished in preparation. In the center of the bay, a temporary rectangular platform had been erected a meter off the floor, the lighting panels in the ceiling above it having been turned up in intensity, while the others in the bay were dimmed. And, though the cavernous space was nearly silent, the air held a reverent energy, almost crackling with it. Standing in neat, if irregular blocks on three sides of the platform, the entire contingent of Merxian Marines aboard the Yunius were arrayed, dressed in sharp dress uniforms, the rivalries between the branches of the Corps put aside for the moment.

Maintaining his bearing perfectly, Tyr stepped to the left, reaching the end of the line of Rangers and pilots that had been singled out by High Command. The massive form of his XO anchored the line on that end, the black wolf’s orange eyes staring off into the space a foot and a half above Tyr’s ears. On the wolf’s shoulders, in place of the gold three pointed star that had marked him as a Major was the silver four point of a Lieutenant Colonel, and for a reason that Tyr could not comprehend, ever since he had pinned the new ranks there, before the battalion had even assembled for formation, the look in the usually jovial wolf’s eyes had been serious and almost sad. But, with the whole battalion of Marines within earshot, it had hardly been the time to ask what was bothering him.

“During the battle on the planet Sython, at tremendous risk to his own life, Colonel Tor’sek volunteered to lead an attempt at an unorthodox attack that led directly to the capture of the enemy leadership, and ultimate capitulation of the enemy forces, saving countless Marine lives. His actions being in the highest traditions of the Marine Corps of the Alliance of Merxia, the Korindus Crescent for Distinguished Valor in Combat, is hereby awarded to Lieutenant Colonel Larn Tor’sek.” Katy called out, reading the citation from her place at the lectern at the far right of the platform. While the General was reading, Tyr took the medal from the box that the battalion’s Command Sergeant held out to him, pinning it carefully to the right side of the wolf’s uniform, the gold crescent hanging from its ribbon of bright orange silk bordered in violet, clashing harshly with the dark green cloth behind it, but then, the designers of the award hadn’t exactly intended it to be fashion statement. Finishing with the medal, Tyr saluted his second in command, the other officer returning the salute crisply, his eyes lacking even the slightest hint of his usual humor. When both had held the salute for exactly three seconds, the pair dropped it, Tyr taking two steps back and waiting for his Command Sergeant to retrieve the last of the boxes from the table before executing a perfect left face and beginning the relatively long march over to the color guard standing alone before the fourth side of the platform.

The sequence of the awards ceremony well-predated the Merxians leaving their home planet, before even the varied species of Merxia had made peace with one other, in fact. By tradition, the personal awards always came first, starting with those going to the very lowest ranked soldiers, and finally ending with the officers, which, as Tyr understood it, was the opposite of the sequence executed by their Terran counterparts. As the story went, the tradition of the lowest ranks getting their awards first originated with an incident during an ancient war of attrition between two nations, the names of which were not often remembered.

In that awards ceremony, as in many before that, the high ranking officers, who had not come anywhere close to the bloodshed at the front, had been awarded first, given lavish awards for victory and personal bravery, accompanied with long speeches extolling the sacrifices made in battle. And, when the enlisted soldiers, fed up with being treated like expendable cannon fodder, had seen the assembled awards dwindle down to only a handful, meant as token recognition to keep them pacified, had suddenly mutinied, killing the officers after the guards meant to protect them joined with the mutineers instead. The mutiny that had started in that one unit had quickly spread to the rest of the army, and had, at least according to some history books of the era, been the catalyst for a revolution spanning both nations that had ended the conflict (and the nations) entirely. Whether the event had ever actually happened was often debated over the years as knowledge of the true events had faded behind centuries of interpretation, but the tradition remained.

Now, with the first part of the ceremony over, the coyote officer came to a stop before the color guard, turned smartly and paused for a moment, facing the paired flags of Merxia and the Turlion Rangers, which stood out bright against the metallic backdrop. Tyr could feel the eyes of the assembled Marines tracking him in anticipation, and he still felt the momentary guilt that there were so many holes in the ranks. Even with the replacements that had joined them while they had been in orbit around the massive supply depot on Seranus, they were still not even close to full strength. Shaking off the feeling, the Colonel drew in a deep breath and shouted loud, his voice echoing in the hanger so all could hear it.

“Battalion, Salute!!” He ordered and every Marine in the vicinity moved as one, raising their right fists up, over their heart, the Lioness sergeant carrying the Turlion flag dipping it forward at a 45 degree angle, the battle ribbons tied to the tip of the flagstaff dipping forward until they were perpendicular to the floor, within Tyr’s reach. Each and every battalion in the Merxian armed forces had such a flag, uncased only for the most formal of occasions, each ribbon representing a battle where the unit had distinguished itself well, and the Turlion Rangers, as befitted such a renowned unit, had several dozen ribbons hanging from their standard; so many that when the flag stood upright, the ribbons almost totally obscured the planetary flag beneath.

Turning precisely on his right heel so the flag was directly in front of him, Tyr lifted the small folded square of cloth from the last box his top sergeant offered and unfolded it slowly with precise, practiced and deliberate motions. The cloth ribbon he held was made of bright red silk, bordered with rich gold embroidery, and the Colonel paused a moment to admire it before tying the ribbon into place with the others, the flag bearer raising the flag high when he finished, the word ‘Sython’ and the date of the battle joining the other illustrious places where the Rangers had made their reputation. When the flag was at its height, Tyr saluted, holding the gesture for a few moments, then the other Marines dropped their salutes at the same instant he did. Finally, Tyr turned back to face the platform and Katy spoke loud, the General’s voice ringing through the room.

“Command, Dismissed!!” She called out and the Marines immediately broke ranks, the electric silence breaking suddenly into the happy chatter of soldiers in the company of close comrades. Leaving the Command Sergeant to supervise the color guard as it reverently returned the flags to their traditional cloth cases, Tyr headed for the platform once more, watching the newly decorated Marines head back to their platoons and squadrons, all of them grinning broadly, anticipating the coming celebration. All except Larn, who had hardly relaxed his pose from rigid attention.

Picking up the pace, Tyr headed directly for him, intending to ask him what could possibly be compelling him to act like that. By all rights, even the usually humble wolf should have been glowing, but as Tyr watched Larn as he was surrounded by other Marines congratulating him, he could see that the almost grim look in his eyes hadn’t faded, though he made an effort to accept the congratulations being heaped upon him with good humor. With such a crowd surrounding him, it was impossible for Tyr to get close for a private word, and he changed course for the moment, heading instead to greet his old friend, who had detached herself from the podium to personally congratulate her pilots who had been given awards. When the pretty vixen at last was able to break away from the pilots of her squadron, she smiled wearily at Tyr.

“Well, that went better than I expected.” She said quietly, taking off her pilot’s beret for a moment and smoothing down the fur that had stood up on the back of her head and neck. Tyr smiled, knowing that the General had never been one for public speaking, and certainly not in leading a ceremony like that, but, as the ranking Marine officer on board the ship, the duty fell to her.

“I think you did great, General.” Tyr replied, “Certainly better than some other COs I have encountered.” When the vixen looked at him skeptically, he grinned in confirmation. “When I first joined the Rangers, the battalion commander couldn’t even remember the names of the Marines he was decorating. One time, I think he mispronounced someone’s name three different ways in two different citations.” Sharing a chuckle, the pair watched as the other Marines made their way out of the main entrance of the hanger, the green clad tide all no doubt headed for the mess and lounge areas to relax. As was customary, the entire contingent had the rest of the day off duty and they clearly intended to enjoy it, even though they didn’t have permission to leave the ship. But then, as they watched, Tyr frowned, noticing something amiss. When his friend looked curiously at him, Tyr cocked his head, looking around the milling Marines once more.

“What?” Katy asked and Tyr finally answered.

“Where is Larn?” He questioned and the vixen looked over the mass of troops again, frowning as well. It wasn’t like you could miss the big black wolf…

“Did he leave already?” The general asked, scanning the thinning crowd carefully, then, Tyr tapped her on the arm, pointing towards one of the side doors of the hanger. When the vixen looked in that direction, she just caught a glimpse of the unmistakable form of the giant canine ducking into the corridor at a quick pace and Tyr shook his head.

“What’s going on with him?” Tyr asked rhetorically, and the vixen standing at his side shook her head.

“I don’t know.” She replied, wearing a frustrated look. “I saw how he looked through the whole ceremony and I tried to touch his mind, to see what the problem was, but it was closed off completely, like a wall, and I couldn’t spare the concentration to push.”

“I’ve never known him to be like this.” Tyr commented, “Not even when we lost half the battalion in the raid on the Sethi Colony. ‘Grim’ is never a word I have ever used to describe him before. He is always chipper.”

“You don’t think that he is having second thoughts about our other project, do you?” Katy suggested after a moment, replacing her beret as the cavernous bay became quiet enough for their words to echo, the last of the Marines disappearing through the blast doors that marked the edge of the bay. “Getting overwhelmed by what we are doing? I can’t say I haven’t felt like that sometimes. The odds are very much stacked against us and its not going to be easy to do what we are doing.”

“No, I don’t think that’s it.” Tyr said, shaking his head. “Odds have never mattered to Larn. Easy, hard, makes no difference. No, this is something else. Something has gotten under his fur.” Giving a sigh, the coyote started off in the direction the giant had gone. “I’m going to go find him, see if I can help.”

“Want me to come with you?” Katy asked, but the Ranger commander shook his head, knowing exactly what she was offering to do. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want me to do even a passive scan? We can’t afford to take chances, not with this.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m not taking a chance.” The coyote said quietly. “Larn and I have been through way too much in the time we have known each other. He is a good friend and he has earned the benefit of a few thousand doubts. I owe him that.”

“I understand, old friend.” Katy said, heading off towards the main doors into the bay. “See you later for dinner?”

“Count on it.” Tyr replied, walking towards the corridor that his friend had disappeared into. The narrow space beyond the door was one of the starboard maintenance access ways, leading off along the inner edge of the secondary hull, allowing access to the systems directly behind the last layers of armor. Although entry to the corridor wasn’t restricted under stand down conditions, like now, the only people who usually went in there were engineering work details performing repairs and diagnostics. Due to their cramped confines, Marines only used them to get behind enemy boarding parties in combat, and then only rarely. After all, there were much faster, and much easier ways, to get everywhere aboard ship than using the secondary corridors. Though, Tyr reflected, if you didn’t want to be bothered, it was certainly a quiet way to travel. But the question then became, where would his XO have gone?

The first place that came to mind was Larn’s quarters, but Tyr quickly discarded that possibility. Even though officers’ quarters were coded and locked to the biometric ID of the officer to whom they belonged, they were in the interior of the ship where the most people would be, and besides, that would be the first place someone looking for him might go. Then, suddenly, like a sun rising above the horizon, the answer came to him and he started off, heading towards the bow of the ship at an easy pace.

On every Merxian capital ship, the compartment on the furthest tip of the bow was reserved for a singular purpose. Typically referred to as ‘The Sanctuary’, the space was one of the few compartments aboard that had broad windows, and was nearly sound proof, designed as it was to be used for religious services. But, when no such services were taking place, the compartment was reserved for anyone that needed to do some soul searching. And if he knew Larn, and he liked to think that he did, he figured that would be a good bet for the towering wolf to go on a day like today.

When Tyr finally reached the door leading back into the main corridors nearest the tip of the carrier, a good ten minutes later, he stepped out of the narrow corridor to find himself only a couple of turns away from the Sanctuary, but he wasn’t surprised to find the area empty. With the naval crew either on duty, or taking the opportunity offered by being far behind the lines and out of combat to catch up on sleep and leisure time, and the entire Marine contingent celebrating in the crew lounges, practically no one would have a reason to visit the Sanctuary. Coming around the last bend in the corridor and stepping into the forward compartment, Tyr immediately stopped, taking a few moments to adjust to how very quiet it was beyond the doors. Not being particularly religious, Tyr didn’t spend much time here, but it had always struck him how very...profound the Sanctuaries were.

The glow panels in the ceiling were set to the minimum setting, only enough to make out the furnishings, the blue, green and brown surface of Seranus and the endless stars outside the window providing far more illumination. Only the smallest, nearly imperceptible vibration ran through the deck plates beneath his dress shoes, and, with the sound proofing of the bulkheads, the room truly felt like a place unconnected to anywhere or anything, a tiny world all its own, poised on the edge of the infinite nothing of space. Truly, one couldn’t help but feel that the only way to get closer to the vastness of space and whatever forces governed it would be to take a walk outside the hull.

And there, seated on one of the comfortable padded benches nearest the window, was a familiar hulking shape, the only person in the entire room. Walking slowly, carefully placing his feet so he didn’t disturb the silence, the coyote made his way up behind the wolf, wondering if he dared to intrude. But, as he got nearer, he saw the wolf wasn’t praying, or even just staring off into the void. He was sitting with his head in his hands, his posture one of sorrow, his dress uniform coat laid beside him, neatly folded. For a moment, Tyr stood, watching his huge friend in surprise, then, he made his decision and walked so he stood in front of the nearest window, listening to Larn breathe. His breaths were steady and slow and after a few moments, he heard the wolf shift, settling his weight back against the back of the bench, letting out a morose sigh.

“So,” Tyr began, keeping his voice low and quiet, “I asked myself... If I was dealing with something and I wanted to get away from most people on a day like today, where would I go?”

“Heh.” Larn chuckled softly, matching Tyr’s tone of voice, “Good guess.” The pair were silent for a minute, then Tyr turned at last to his friend and found him sitting with his hands in his lap, his unusual orange gaze staring out through the window, distant and troubled.

“Larn, you aren’t just my second in command.” Tyr began again, making the wolf look in his direction, his expression one of almost immeasurable weariness. “You are also my friend. If something is wrong, or even if you just need to get something out…” The wolf let out a soft, slow breath and smiled in spite of himself.

“I appreciate that, really I do. But its nothing.” He stated and Tyr raised his eyebrows at him.

“Ever since you pinned on Lieutenant Colonel this morning, you have been walking around like someone just stabbed you in the gut.” Tyr persisted and the wolf gave another deep sigh, “That’s not ‘nothing’. What is it Larn? What’s bothering you?”

“Its hard to explain.” Larn said, indicating the seat next to him and Tyr sat down, looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to begin. The wolf was silent for a full minute then he shook his head, starting to talk, his gaze not really focused on anything. “I joined the Regulos Marine Academy two years early, did I ever tell you that?” When Tyr shook his head, surprised, the wolf continued, a rueful smile on his muzzle. “I was always big for my age, and all I had ever wanted to be was a soldier, so I managed to convince my parents to sign the consent forms. But lately, I’ve wondered how things would have been if I had waited until I was old enough. I probably would never have gotten the assignments I had gotten, never would have known Terrans close up. Since the day the war started, I always had a feeling, deep down, that the whole thing wasn’t right. I knew the Terrans, I knew that they didn’t hate us, that they didn’t want to fight any more than we did. And then, all of a sudden, Arc was attacked, and they declared war, and none of us had a choice anymore.” Tyr stayed silent as the wolf paused, not having any idea how to respond. He had always known that there were some in the Alliance who had the kind of firsthand experience with the Terrans that Larn had had, but it wasn’t until just that moment that it had really sunk in how hard that must have been for them, to know that at any time, the enemy in your sights could be someone you knew, could even be a friend that you had no choice but to try and kill. “I guess its kind of silly, but every time I have gotten a citation for bravery, it has felt like I am betraying the people I knew.”

“But this one wasn’t even for fighting Terrans,” Tyr pointed out, and the wolf managed a slight smile. “Hell, you might even say this one is one they would be proud of.”

“You might be right about that... But I’d be lying if I said that made it easier. Every awards ceremony I have attended, I have had to remind myself that, right or wrong, it was the Terrans that declared war on us; that we didn’t have a choice.” Larn replied, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I tried, I really tried, but, even after all these years, I have never been able to convince myself that I didn’t know the Terrans as well as I thought, that they were all just monsters waiting on the chance to kill us all, and whatever other loads of crap the media has tried to sell over the years. And now I find out that I was right in the first place, and every memory all just comes crashing down on me.”

“I’m struggling with it too, Larn.” The coyote replied, putting a hand on the giant’s shoulder. “It really does make me wonder what the hell we are fighting for. Is it all just basic survival? That’s a dangerous thing; in that light anything can be justified.”

“I agree.” The wolf stated, sounding almost wistful and closing his eyes. “Its one of the reasons I believe in what we are planning to do.” Shaking his head once more, Larn opened his peculiar eyes and ran a hand through the fur on the back of his neck. “As for the ranks... I suppose its nothing really big, just a wound I didn’t know I still had. A long time ago now, I had someone in my life, someone that was so special to me. A soldier, as I guess you might expect. We fell for each other, hard. More than anything, we wanted to spend our lives together, but...well, we never got the chance.” When Larn trailed off sadly, Tyr knew they had hit upon the subject that was really bothering him, and the thought suddenly occurred to him that, in the entire time he had known his XO, the huge wolf had never dated anyone, never hooked up on leave, or anything of that sort. He had always been unattached, or at least, so it had seemed. But a pain like that, that ran that deep, it never really went away.

“I am so sorry, Larn.” Tyr said, shaking his head. “I didn’t know. I can’t imagine how it feels to lose someone like that.”

“There is no way you could have known. No one does. I guess its funny really, absurd, even. We had vowed we would both make General one day, and we would be the ones to pin on each other’s ranks. I guess the thought that I am never going to see that come true really came home to me when I got these.” The big wolf gestured dismissively to the silver four points that decorated his shoulders, making his point clear. “Until today, it never really mattered. I mean, anything less than senior officer rank and you are so far away from being a General its not even on the horizon. And Major, well, there are an awful lot of Majors out there. But Lieutenant Colonel? I’m only two steps down, and I might as well be a universe away from the happy dream where getting there mattered in the slightest. And with the war getting worse every damn day, odds are even I’m going to get there, like it or not. If I live that long.”

Tyr let out a long slow breath, trying to think of something to say, even knowing that there wasn’t anything to be said. There were no comforting words that didn’t sound trite and useless in his mind. For a moment, the pair sat silent, looking out on the endless star field of the universe, then, finally, the huge black wolf straightened in his seat, working his head from side to side, stretching the muscles in his broad neck.

“I’m sorry Tyr.” He said, his tone evening out. “Its just been a bad day. I’ll be fine in a few days.”

“No, Larn.” Tyr replied as his XO stood up, retrieving his coat and putting it back on. “I’m the one that is sorry. I wish there was something more that we could do.” As the pair turned back into the ship, the smaller coyote lengthening his stride, while the huge wolf shortened his own, matching each other out of habit, Tyr continued. “Why don’t you take an extra day off? You have certainly earned it.”

“Thank you, sir.” Larn replied, buttoning his coat back closed, the medals he wore clinking on his chest. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

“Then as of now, you are off duty tomorrow as well.” Tyr said, grinning at his XO...

***

12-2-3015

Time Index; 2130 hours GST

TFV Zephyr

Asgard system, Terran space

The door to the Flag lounge slid into the wall ahead of me, and I walked into the comfortable space with a smile, the grin only getting wider when I noted the finely engraved sign bolted somewhat haphazardly to the bulkhead beside the door. ‘No work allowed, by order of the Universe.’ it said and I shook my head in amazement. Even though such signs were technically very much against regulations, and seemed to vanish without a trace the second an inspection party came aboard any ship, I had never been in a lounge, officer or enlisted, where such a sign had been missing. The oddest thing of all, was that no one ever admitted to putting them up, or to taking them down for that matter. It was just one of those running jokes that every Sailor and Marine in the Federation military perpetrated without thinking.

A ship the size of the Zephyr, it having about the same footprint as a Manticore class heavy cruiser and carrying a comparable crew compliment, actually had a number of spaces designated as ‘Lounges’ in the schematics, four large compartments for enlisted crew and Marines divided about evenly throughout the hull, two more for officers and a pilot’s lounge just off the fighter bay, though that one didn’t really count, since it was mostly where pilots and flight crew on standby alert spent their shifts. But this particular room had been included in the modified designs at the insistence of Admiral Brinkley, the commander of the Prometheus Shipyard, who shared the Navy’s view that Flag officers, and their staff members for that matter, made the rest of the people on board uncomfortable, and therefore needed their own space in which to relax. The Marine Corps had a different view of course, most officers no more uncomfortable around Generals than around anyone else, but it did come in handy now and then.

Right now, Major Dillinger and my old friend Pride were seated in two of the comfortable chairs, playing Imshui on the holographic display built into one of the tables, the fast paced strategy game that was often described as a combination of European Chess and Chinese Go, in three dimensions, and on steroids. Angel took up one of the couches by himself, stretched out on his back, his glowing cybernetic eye flashing from time to time as the cybernetic fingers resting on his chest entered commands into the interface that only he could see, his forehead furrowed with concentration. The rest of the room was empty, and as I headed for another of the chairs, my adjutant caught my eye, raising an eyebrow, but I shook my head. I had asked the three of them to meet me here despite it getting late in the day for a couple of very good reasons, namely, the encryption specialist had finally said that he had an update with his project; and, we had a new member to our counter-conspiracy to welcome. Taking a seat at a table where I could observe the trio of other Marines, I watched the cyborg work for a minute or so before finally speaking.

“Hey Angel,” I said, and his human eye looked at me, his mechanical one staring off into space still, a truly creepy image. “You aren’t supposed to be working in here.”

“Sorry sir.” He replied, a broad grin spreading across his face, the scars making the gesture a little odd. “I can’t help it. This puzzle has its hooks into me and I can’t put it down.”

“Well, you are making the rest of us nervous.” Dillinger put in offhandedly as he deftly made a series of rapid moves, the arrangement of shapes on the screen contorting strangely, his eyes not straying from the holo-display, Pride frowning as he moved to counter my adjutant’s strategy. As the pair began moving their fingers in the virtual interface even faster, their eyes flicking back and forth like lightning, the cyborg sat up and glared good naturedly in their direction, using both of his eyes this time. Even as the door to the lounge opened behind me, the display suddenly flashed bright blue and Dillinger groaned, Pride raising both fists into the air.

“Ha!!” The Celdanian exclaimed, the celtic tattoos on his face making him look fierce even coupled with his obvious satisfaction. “I win again! Five out of five.”

“Damnit.” Dillinger replied through gritted teeth, shaking his head. “How the hell do you keep doing that?”

“Well,” Captain Cornell observed from the entry way, “Considering the Celdanians invented Imshui, that is not so much of a surprise.”

“I’m glad you could join us, Captain.” I said, waving the Naval officer to a chair, ignoring the incredulous look Pride was giving me at his presence. When the scarred man had settled easily into his chair, the comfortable dark grey cloth of the service jumpsuit he wore almost the exact same shade as the gel pads of the couch he chose, he paused for a moment, returning the stare of the fierce Marine evenly. “Relax Pride, he is one of us.”

“You know Knight, you are supposed to let the rest of us know when you are going to do that, right?” Pride replied, giving me a glare. “Its hard enough without swabbies being let in all of a sudden.”

“I’m sitting right here, you know.” Cornell interjected, a hard edge to his voice that made the proud Celdanian bristle, his fiery temper flaring in his eyes. “You got a problem with me, Marine?” For a few moments, the pair stared at each other, the same, cool, dangerous look in their eyes, as if each was measuring the other’s head like a hunter might measure a prized trophy. Then, finally, a smile crossed Pride’s face and he let out a low chuckle.

“You don’t back down easy, do you Captain?” Pride asked, and when Cornell smiled as well, he relaxed. “I like that.”

“Eight years as a Tac officer will do that.” The naval officer replied, settling easily back into his chair and the Celdanian looked impressed. Officers of the Navy’s Tactical division were about as close to infantry officers as the navy came, and in a long lasting war like this one, with brutal boarding actions becoming all too common, their life expectancy was often measured in months, if not weeks. Officers with Cornell’s extensive record were few and far between. “I only transferred to the Command division when I made Commander two years ago.”

“I guess you’ll do.” Pride finally proclaimed, nodding slowly and I rolled my eyes.

“Are you two finished? Can we move on?” I asked and the two officers looked properly chagrinned. Marine and Naval officers always had a tendency to butt heads when they were getting to know one another, the rivalry as old as the first Marine and Navy services that had been founded, and perhaps even further back. Navy Tactical units, who fought side by side with Fleet Marines aboard ship, were more often than not given the benefit of the doubt in such discussions. Of course, these sorts of contests were rarely serious when one got to these high of ranks, especially during a long, drawn out war. When they nodded, I motioned to my adjutant who immediately switched the holodisplay from the game program to the same surveillance blocking system that my office carried, the equipment being standard issue in any dedicated space for Flag Officers. When my ears popped and a very faint buzzing sound filled the space, I nodded to the cyborg, who was now sitting upright and resting his artificial hand on the table top beside his couch. Returning the nod, the cheerful intelligence officer spoke.

“As you are all probably aware by now, I was tasked with breaking the encryption on the remote transmitter that was located on the Prometheus Shipyard’s hyper communications array.” He began, and everyone nodded. “Well, the encryption was very complex, and high end, on par with the highest levels of encryption we use. It was so complex in fact, that it was proving impossible for me to crack it without the resources of my section of Military Intel. I’ll spare you the boring details, but, after looking at some of the information provided by General Cramer, it dawned on me that we might be looking at it the wrong way around. Last night, I found that I was right.” Once more, the cyborg’s pointer finger split open, the bundle of fiber optic leads extending out from its compartment and plugging itself into the computer. At once, the holographic display lit up once more, an image appearing above it. It looked like what you might get if you knotted seven or eight strings together over and over again in random configurations, the various strands taking on different hues as we looked at it.

“This is a graphical representation of the encrypted data in the buffer of the transmitter,” He said, flicking his fingers to manipulate the image, the strands parting from one another and beginning to untwine, three of the colors falling free into separate, straight strands that then broke into distinct blocks along the bottom of the image. “These blocks represent discrete programs and files that I broke open in the process, but they are fairly meaningless, password queries and pitfalls mostly; security measures in effect. But this,” He said, flicking his fingers once more and pulling apart the still entwined mess of strands to reveal that one ‘thread’ led away from the knotted cords and off the display entirely. “This, told me exactly what we are working with.” Bringing his hands together, then drawing them apart, the cyborg zoomed the display out, revealing an arrangement of cords of many colors twining and intermingling at many points, connecting hundreds of knots and dozens of clusters, all around a centralized point, where all the trailing strands came together, or perhaps, originated from. Not knowing that much about the intricacies of computer programming, I honestly had no idea what I was looking at. To my surprise, it was the newcomer to the group that spoke up first, his eyes lighting up in amazement.

“Its a Subnet.” The naval officer exclaimed in surprise and Angel gave him an impressed look.

“Very good, Captain.” The cyborg said, nodding. “That is exactly what it is.”

“A what now?” Dillinger asked, his expression blank.

“A Subnet. Its an idea left over from the time before the universal hyper-communications networks were established.” Cornell explained, getting up from his seat and looking over the display with interest. “See, in the universal networks that we have today, all of the information is communicated from one relay to the next at near-instantaneous velocity, on a quantum link that takes place outside our normal space-time. The relays are all programmed using the same language and have so many security and tracking programs, and, what is more, are so widely distributed, that there is no need for data storage and backups. As a result, messages can be transmitted between outposts on opposite ends of Terran space in as little as a few minutes, if each relay transmits immediately. But, that wasn’t the case before the universal networks were created. Back then, there were not enough relays, and the relay technology wasn’t advanced enough, to ensure that a message got to where it was going at top speed, and intact.”

“So, to compensate for that flaw,” Angel said, picking up the story as the other officer finished, “the networks created hubs, where all of the messages were copied and stored as backups, in case retransmission was needed. Now, in theory, if you could tap into the storage hub, you could access every message and piece of information that had gone through that hub for the last couple of months, or even longer, depending on how often they were purged. That kind of thing happened often enough that somebody came up with an idea of how to protect information. In essence, using the same principle of quantum linking as a hypercom array, they would create a network where all of the information was kept at its origin point, with nothing actually transmitted between them; the link itself allowing direct access to that information.”

“But, since each location, or ‘node’, provided its own encryption and its own security programs, you couldn’t even establish a link, unless you knew the passcodes to the node’s encryption, which could be reset as often as you liked.” Cornell continued, pointing to the knotted clusters of strands. “Now, such a system would operate beneath the notice of the regular communications network, hence, the term ‘Subnet’, and could only actually be accessed if you were at one of the nodes itself.”

“Exactly.” Angel confirmed, “Of course, such a system was incredibly expensive to set up, since each node needed its own dedicated hypercom system, and while it was hardly efficient as a communications system, it was still extremely secure. Even if one node were compromised, the rest of the data would still be secured.” Then, the cyborg, pointed to the spot at the center, where all the trailing threads came together. “But, as a failsafe measure, each subnet would have a central program that monitored the nodes, recording when they were accessed and from where.”

“And included in that central program was a special decryption program,” Cornell finished, “That allowed the person using it to command any node to decrypt itself at any time, kind of like a master key. But, if I recall, the program is pretty much hack proof.”

“Yeah, and now we come to reason why I asked for this meeting.” Angel said, shaking his head, and typing something with his mechanical hand. “When I took a look at the central program, I found the prompt for the decryption routine, or at least I think I did. But this,” he paused, the graphic of the subnet being replaced with a pattern of dots of various sizes arranged in a three dimensional space. “is all that I get when I access it. At this point, I know three things. First, this is some sort of clue to the master passcode, sort of like a cipher prompt. Second, one false entry here and every access point in the entire subnet will lock up, and we can forget about ever accessing any of them. And third, I have no idea what this is, or what it wants me to do.”

“So, weeks of work, and we are at a dead end?” Pride asked incredulously from his place and Angel shook his head admonishingly at him.

“No no, on the contrary.” He said, “We are really, really close. And if we can figure out this one thing, we will have access to everything the Conclave has.”

“Yeah...” Dillinger said dryly. “That is a big ‘If’.”

I couldn’t help but nod in agreement at my adjutant’s assessment, although even as the other officers sat back in thought or frustration, I couldn’t help but think that the image, whatever it was, looked weirdly and distantly familiar, tugging at the very edge of my memory, as it were. But how, and why, I couldn’t imagine...