A Reasonably Moderate Period Of Time Ago, In A Galaxy Relatively Nearby...
Station Amptotho
Hathaw System
Anilos Sector
Inner Territories
Seran Federation
In the distance, the star of the Hathaw system glittered like a yellow-orange jewel against a backdrop of multicolored pinpricks, its light reflecting off the pale blue dot that was Zoria, the only habitable planet in the system, one of thirty-two such worlds spread over the twenty-five systems of the Seran Federation. The star, however, wasn't the foreground of the video feed, nor was the idyllic Zoria.
The system flotillas of the Antilles Sector had been gathered in their entirety for Inspection Week, and they were the focus of the video feed playing out in the command center of Amptotho Station. In total, over two-hundred ships from the Navy and several dozen from the Marines had arrived for their yearly inspection. Those that hadn't arrived were Marine ships on training rotations as well as a few Navy frigates relegated to patrol duties. They were scheduled to come in at a later date for their certifications. Aside from the yearly inspections and the rare military celebrations, it was a rare sight to see so many vessels accumulated in one system, let alone in such a small space surrounding the station.
Station Amptotho wasn't the only space station in the Federation, but it was one of a handful owned and operated directly by the Seran military as a dock, resupply, and congregation point. As a general rule, there was usually only one such station in a sector, and Amptotho was the Antilles Sector's station. That meant that roughly once a year, based on the Seran Prime calendar, ships would gather to be swarmed over by a veritable army of engineers, technicians, inspectors, and administrators, looking through every seam and bulkhead, every warhead and every line of code on each ship, making sure that they were in efficient operating condition. Every sector made sure to offset their inspections so only a portion of the Navy was tied up in inspection at any given time in case of emergency fleet actions. Not like that mattered, the Federation hadn't fought an armed conflict in years, and had never been tested in anything that could be considered a fight for survival. This peace was earned, however. Insurrection, piracy, and terrorism were always a present threat... In theory. And so it was necessary to keep the Navy and Marines at their peak.
Karel thought it was a bunch of needless paperwork.
09-Karel was an Immortal, and nominally attached to Seran Cruiser SNS 067 Carnage out of Conaling Flotilla. It wasn't the most entertaining placement an Immortal could get. He knew some, like 28-Raliyah and 19-Meletis got to do secret squirrel stuff, or even 07-Zihark was allowed to do first contact duties. But Karel was stuck here in the Inner Territories. His assignment was "readiness." On paper, you wouldn't even be able to decide what that meant. But Karel had been on this assignment for two years now, and he was excruciatingly familiar with the task. 09-Karel was a poster child, as it was.
Clad in his pearlescent ivory white personalized Immortal armor kit, Karel's job was to travel the Inner Territories, visit all the stations, ensure all the bolts and rivets were where they were supposed to be, ensure nobody was drinking on the job when he was there, and best of all, visit villages and towns so the common civilians could ogle and take pictures with him to boost recruitment. Press the flesh, show them what every Seran could be if they joined civil service. A true symbol of propaganda.
A shame that was a lie. Partially.
Karel looked the part of a perfect Seran. Tan skin, hazel eyes, brown hair pulled into a high and tight braid. He was Josiah Everyman. The only difference was he wasn't human, not exactly. Not anymore. Where most Serans stood around 180 centimeters, he was around 230 in height, built on a frame of cybernetic augmentation, genetic manipulation, chemical enhancements, and pure trained physique. Something truly unobtainable to almost everyone, out of reach for all but the Immortals, of which the ranks were closed. Fifty-one was the cap. The only ones of their kind in the entire Federation, perhaps even the entire galaxy. There would never be more, as they were the last and only of their kind. Sure, kid, you can be just like me, Karel thought, the only difference is we'll give you a blue jumpsuit if you join the Navy, or blue-grey armor in the Marines. Maybe you'll get lucky, be really good, and join Special Forces. Then you'll at least get some cool shit. But you'll never be like me. No matter what the recruiters tell you. Certainly, you'll never get Karel's white armor.
The white armor wasn't even his choice. Sure, Immortals got to have personalized equipment, but the white was a PR move by Command. 'Purity and sanctity' was how they had described the symbolism of the colors.
"Oh hey, the Bounty is up."
Karel looked back up to the viewscreen, glancing around the station's command room again. It was a multi-tiered room, banks of monitors for sensory technicians and communications specialists organizing the entire ballet of the inspection as well as the goings-on of the Sector. At the front of the room were massive banks of video screens where the external cameras were set to watch the comings and goings of the ships from the station's docks. Sure enough, the Cruiser Bounty was heading into a recently vacated docking station. Karel glanced to his right, at the source of the voice that had gotten his attention.
A figure clad in matte black armor stood, the only reflection on the silhouette coming from a freshly shaved head. Karel smiled in familiar greeting.
"Brother. I had no idea you'd be here as well."
15-Basilio grinned back. He shared many of the same physical features of Karel, except where Karel was powerfully built, Basilio was barrel-chested and 15 centimeters taller, a titan of a man, a titan of an Immortal. Like Karel, Basilio was assigned to a cruiser in name only and given 'readiness' duties.
"Aye. Well met, brother. The Bounty was coming in, so I decided it was worth a break from our daunting line of work to see the ship was in top condition. And of course to ensure there was no slacking taking place here."
"And have you found the inspection staff wanting?"
"Only for action. It seems the only slacking I can find in the entire station is you, staring slack-jawed and glaze-eyed at the viewscreens."
Karel grinned and took the lighthearted insult to give back in kind, "Then surely you must be slipping, Bas. I've heard many a rumor of the Bounty's proclivity towards drink and sleep while you're off-decks."
Basilio raised an eyebrow in mock concern, going along with the joke, "Is that so, brother? I suppose I will need to inform the captain to present a more stringent training protocol. Perhaps more surprise inspections and physical training as well."
"You could instead just tell them xenos have invaded the Outer Territories and are on their way here now. That should rebalance their humours in good time."
Both Immortals chuckled at the audacity of the statement and settled into a comfortable silence as they watched the viewscreens together, observing the continuing inspections. The Federation was at peace. Xenos didn't invade here, especially not when they'd have to fight through the Nakashima first. And even if they did invade, they'd be noticed long before they got to Antilles Sector. Despite the theater of the inspections, the Federation was the safest it had ever been.
What could possibly threaten that peace?
Signals Station Staghorn
Varden System
Outer Territories
Seran Federation
Roughly eight million kilometers sunward, the newly-established colony of Korvus glittered like a star. Had the station been closer, the naked eye would be able to pick out the blue-green foliage of the continents, the dark purple oceans, and the few haphazard lights of the first permanent settlements of colonists and homesteaders. Korvus was approaching its first anniversary as a colony world of the Federation, and the population was still less than ten-thousand people, according to last month's immigration and travel records. Many of the Federation's worlds were sparsely populated, but the new colony was comparatively uninhabited. Though, in time, Korvus was expected to join its sister planets as a frontier agricultural world.
In the year since the discovery of the Varden System Warp Gate and the uninhabited planet beyond that had been named Korvus, little had been done to build up the infrastructure of the system. Varden Frontier Command had been established and the Warp Gate had been fully staffed, but no docking stations had been built, no mining or research enclaves on any of the uninhabitable planets or moons of the system had yet to be established, and there was little intrasystem traffic aside from transports ferrying supplies and colonists to Korvus.
Signals Station Staghorn was a recent build in the Varden System. Barely large enough to allow a Navy Frigate to dock with it, Staghorn was a monitoring and surveillance station. Staffed by a couple dozen analysts and engineers under the command of Major Travus Yune, Staghorn was situated in an orbit roughly equidistant from Varden Warp Gate and the colony Korvus, matching the orbital speed of a gas giant that occupied the same orbit which was currently across the system.
Staghorn's role was simple. Since Korvus had been established as an official colony of the Seran Federation, but the Federation had yet to build up the infrastructure of the system or the colony, Staghorn was a stopgap measure, a cautious eye to keep track of the traffic throughout the system until larger and more permanent space stations and planet-based sites could be built. The original rush from the Federation's expeditionary fleet had long since made its original survey of the system and had long since returned to its docking in the inner territories. Meaning all that Staghorn had to support its mission, according to the most recent mission briefing, were a single strike frigate, two survey frigates, and a gaggle of corvettes. Based on Staghorn's most recent sensor sweep, the survey frigates were doing in-depth surveys of the moons of the star system's gas giant, Varden IV, across the system, while the strike frigate Andreadakis was on patrol sunward currently near Korvus. The corvettes were dashed across the system, one was currently support the Warp Gate, another was on the far side of the system running a long-range patrol, a third was patrolling sunward in between Varden I and Varden II, and the fourth corvette was docked with Staghorn, the 8-man crew currently enjoying their off-shift.
Planetside on Korvus, there was a small complement of Marines which were currently acting as the local law enforcement in lieu of a proper militia, which would only be formed once Korvus's population was more established. Most of the initial Marines had been pulled off of Korvus once the system had been deemed safe enough for settlement, a couple regiments of the Marines' modular tactical assault platforms, or M-TAPs and their crews and mounted infantry were all the settlers of Korvus needed for safety from the wildlife of the new world.
Rumor had it that the Immortal 44-Titania was also on Korvus, as she had been since she'd arrived in-system with the original exploratory fleet. The betting pool aboard the Staghorn and the attached corvettes was up to three-hundred credits on whether or not the Immortal would ever take a trip to visit the station. There wasn't much three-hundred could get you here, but whoever won it would live pretty well for a couple months once they got rotated back to somewhere that was civilized. At this point in the tour, though, all hopes were on Titania making a visit on tour's end, maybe when she'd be rotating out herself, maybe not. None of the crew aboard Staghorn Station could predict what powers could cause an Immortal to act.
Federation Senate Building
Seran Prime
Tassa System
Seran Sector
Core Worlds
Seran Federation
"This request is unacceptable, Commander. The Senate couldn't, wouldn't approve of such a measure."
00-Drake stood in Speaker Yune's office and regarded both of the two individuals in the meeting with him.
Chancellor Zarius Rothar had taken the guest seat across the desk and sat next to where Drake stood. Chancellor Rothar was the individual who nominally led the Seran Federation, and the weight of that responsibility, along with his 120 years of life, showed in his bleached white hair, his hunched shoulders, and his cane-assisted walk. The Chancellor had refused any medical treatments that would result in implants, and as such his health had been declining slowly over the last decade or so. Even with access to the best medical specialists in the Federation, a human life could only be extended for so long without major operations being taken. Rothar had been alive for something like half of the Federation's existence and had been Chancellor for the last 24 years. Rothar was a diplomat, a binder of worlds and cultures. The man had negotiated the surrender of the Artharians and had cemented the alliance of the Nakashima Mandate. He was known, affectionately, as the Grandfather of the Federation, and for good reason. Drake personally looked up to the man and his chest ached when he considered how soon Rothar would join their ancestors in memoriam.
Keitan Yune was Speaker of the Senate, and it took considerable restraint for Drake to not push the slimy little dwarf into his padded chair across the desk until something inside him popped. Yune was a career politician, and despite being Seran by heritage, he would be considered small by Nakashima standards. He'd clearly taken full advantage of all the youth treatments currently available, since Yune was sixty but looked like he hadn't even hit his fortieth year. Drake's eyes focused on the peculiar way Yune's mustache quivered whenever he spoke condescendingly to someone, which was often. His tinny voice made it sound as if he always spoke in a sneer, and again, Drake decided that was often. He certainly was now. Drake realized how profoundly sad it was that someone like Yune had control over someone like himself.
Drake wasn't wearing his combat armor, which he practically lived inside of. For bureaucratic meetings like this, he wore unmarked grey-blue Navy fatigues, which reduced his Immortal-enhanced bulk from frightening to just intimidating. Drake was in his forties, and as Immortals went, he was two decades older than the fifty "siblings." Drake was the first, the original successful experiment. He was the Immortal. Drake was in his forties, but looked in the face to be in his twenties due to the amount of augmentation he'd been subjected to. As far as the Immortal Project staff were aware, Drake's body had stopped aging and he had become effectively, truly, immortal. Drake himself wasn't so sure, he was still comparatively young and would consider himself very lucky to live as old as Grandfather Rothar was. Aside from his apparent youth, his 2.5 meter height made clear that he wasn't technically human anymore. Drake's eyes flicked between Rothar and Yune as Yune continued his inane rambling.
"First of all, there is no funding for your project, Commander."
Drake nodded his head in respect, to Yune's office, not to the man himself, "Yes, Speaker. Surely the funding could be found when the result will be the safety of the Federation?"
"You tell that to the garloid ranchers on Corisa or the grain plantations on Tyros. Explain to the mining firms of Ishikawa or the Artharian Enclave why taxes have been raised for the citizenry to fund your precious military expansion. An expansion, might I add, that is wholly unnecessary. Our military is of sufficient size to deal with all internal and anticipated external conflict. We have over two hundred Cruisers, hundreds of destroyers, frigates, and corvettes. There are over three-million Marines in the Federation and four-million Militia. We even have an entire division of your so-called 'special forces,' at your request five years ago, might I add. Tell me, Commander, why in the Great Architect's name, do you think the Immortals should be expanded?"
Drake glanced at Rothar before responding. Rothar gave a small nod, something Drake had come to learn meant encouragement. Drake turned his eyes to Yune, "You are mistaken, sir."
"What?"
"You are mistaken, Speaker Yune. I do not think the Immortals should be expanded. What was done to create the Immortals should never be repeated. The cost of life was immeasurable, on top of the budgeting costs that concern you most, sir. I do not ask for an expansion of the Immortals. I observe that the Immortals were created to be soldiers and commanders. We are warriors and leaders, Speaker Yune. But since our creation, we have only sparsely lived up to this duty. Few Immortals have participated in direct combat with an enemy force, and only ever in small uniform teams of Immortals. Aside from those limited experiences, the Immortals have been bureaucrats and propaganda pieces. We've been used as goodwill ambassadors and recruiters for the Marines and Militia. I am requesting that the Immortals be given command of military units. Whether they be human, Synth, or ACE is open to negotiation, but the point remains that the Immortals were created to be military weapons, and all I request is that we be used as such instead of as news stories for your next election cycle."
Drake's enhanced hearing picked up Rothar's hushed chuckle even as he watched Yune's face flush.
"You forget yourself, Commander."
"Deepest apologies, Speaker, sir."
Rothar exhaled as he stood, his knees and hips cracking with the exertion, and used his cane to lean against. Drake restrained himself from assisting Rothar get up, knowing that it would only serve to embarrass the Chancellor in front of Speaker Yune.
"I think," Rothar said, "that it's time for Commander Drake to accompany me back to Military Command. Thank you for your time, Keitan, it was generous of you to allow us in on your busy schedule." Drake imagined it was an insult, but he heard sincere gratitude in Rothar's voice. Once again, Drake was impressed in Grandfather Rothar's poise.
Yune stood and nodded, "Yes, of course. Thank you for coming all this way, Chancellor. Please feel free to contact me for anything you need," Yune glanced at Drake, "that isn't military in nature. Perhaps the new legislation we're drafting to restrict the sinew trade would benefit from your wisdom."
"Yes, perhaps. Don't want too many lives ruined by such a substance, surely," Rothar smiled wanly as he moved for the door leading out of the office. Drake turned and beat Rothar to the door to hold it open for the Chancellor.
Once Rothar and Drake were out of Yune's office and were walking through the halls of the Federal Senate building, Rothar glanced up at Drake, "You know you he will be Chancellor soon enough. You shouldn't antagonize him like that."
Drake grunted, "Please don't speak like that, Grandfather."
"Do you think I will live forever, young Drake?"
"No, I just cannot imagine how that garloid will carry the burden of your position when he's burdened so heavily by his ego already."
Rothar clicked his tongue, but Drake saw the smile on the old man's face, "Control your choler, young Drake. You serve the Speaker as you do the other elected officials of the Federation. And not all of those officials think the military to be supreme. We are at a state of peace, currently, and have been for many years. I support your request for the good sense it has, but the Speaker is correct in that there's little need for it currently."
Drake sighed as the two passed functionaries and senators, interns and service personnel. No one paid Drake much attention, the people here having long since gotten used to the presence of coming and going Immortals. Soon, they would exit the Senate building and be out on the busy streets of Seran Prime's capital city. A capital city of millions, on a capital world of billions, within a federation of tens of billions.
"Currently, yes, Grandfather. But I fear for the future. A future where we are besieged from without by hostile xenos, and beset from within by self-serving oligarchs like the Speaker. Some of the myths speak that Old Terra was lost due to the rise of weak leaders who did not protect the mantle of humanity, and I fear the foreshadowing that the Speaker represents."
"Dear young Drake," the Chancellor began, "The future you feel coming to pass has already been circumvented. By your mere existence and drive to prevent it, it cannot come to pass. I have believe in you and your siblings completely to protect the Federation from any such threats when the time comes. The Speaker's reticence to support your request only means the time has not yet come. This is a good thing, Drake. Take heart in our prosperity for the time being."
Drake nodded, "Yes, Grandfather. Don't worry, when the time comes, I will be ready, as will we all."
