“Give us a few minutes,” Aaron said. “Let’s wrap our heads around what our course diversion means for our plans on Atlas Prime.”
Rachael came over and joined Max and Aaron at the command chair. Lee swiveled to face them.
Aaron stood and moved to the back of the bridge where they followed him. They all stood around a holo-table. He brought up a three dimensional view of Atlas Prime. He nodded to Rachael.
“Let’s make sure we’re all on the same page,” he said.
She nodded and explained to the group the initial contact a supposed Separatist made with USSI. Supreme Commander Shepherd personally handled the communications and over a period, they confirmed the individual as a reliable source.
“Finally,” she said. “Based on the source’s knowledge and revelations, we believe they are either a military officer, or a civilian highly placed within the government,” she concluded.
Aaron continued. “Our last known contact was here,” he said, pointing to a triangle shaped icon with the apex inverted. “We don’t know who he or she is. We only information the source provided has been independently confirmed by Rachael’s people prior to our arrival. Despite the unknowns, Shepherd felt strongly we had to jump at any opportunity given the exigency of the situation. He provided us with a set of coordinates to transmit a pre-arranged code.”
Atlas Prime was a continental world similar to Earth but instead of seven continents, it had sixteen. First discovered by a USSF expeditionary squadron two hundred and fifty years ago. More than a few skirmishes erupted over the rights to settle the planet.
The Border Worlds was born in conflict.
“Commander,” Lee said. “What’s our course of action if we’re unable to locate the contact?”
“Unless we can find someone else willing to expose the conspiracy within the USS. Then our two fleets are likely to clash. Kicking off an interstellar war that will make the last war seem like a skirmish. Flaps will take Lee, Rachael and myself to Atlas. Vee will remain with the ship. Max, you’re with us. If our contact isn’t where he’s supposed to be, we’ll improvise some other means of attempting to locate him. Whatever that is, will be determined when the time comes. We won’t simply give up if we’re unable to make contact on our first attempt. Any other questions?”
There were none.
Aaron continued. “The team will use the smuggling route USSI provided, to land on Atlas. Good to know bribery is still a powerful tool in spy games.” He hoped it was bribery, or perhaps the USSI created the clandestine means of getting planet side themselves. Maybe they suggested something bad might happen to some poor orbital defense operator’s family—should he or she not cooperate. “Once we’re down, we’ll send the prearranged signal, and await contact at the predetermined location. From there, we’ll give it twelve hours. If we get nothing. We put plan ‘i’ in motion.”
Rachael furrowed her brow. “Plan ‘eye’?
“Plan improvise. Rachael, help Flaps prep for departure.” Aaron turned to Lee. “Bring some of those toys you collected on Luyten.” he said.
Lee had an excited grin on his face. “How many, Commander?”
“Lots of them.”
****
Aaron left the bridge heading to his quarters for his equipment bag. He wasn’t far before Max caught up with him.
“Aaron, I’m not USSF personnel, you can’t order me to go anywhere.”
Aaron kept walking. “Article 39 of the USSF emergency convention states: ‘during a sierra sierra sierra priority mission. A Fleet officer, not less than the rank of Commander, has the authority to draft into service, anyone whom he reasonably believes could be of assistance to prevent the invasion and occupation of USS space by hostile forces’.”
“Really . . . Article 39 . . . I’ve never heard of that number, doesn’t it stop at 30?”
“Only officers of commander rank and above are aware of the order.”
Max’s nostrils flared. “That’s great! If only you’re aware of it, how is anyone else supposed to know it even exists!”
“Because, commanders are in positions of trust and have in depth knowledge of Fleet movements, defenses and emergency protocols,” he grinned. “And since I am well trusted, you have to trust that my word is true.”
“Perhaps if this were coming from another USSF commander, I’d believe in the remote possibility this Article 39 existed,” Max said.
They rounded the aft corridor on the crew deck, stopping in front Aaron’s Quarters. “But?” Aaron asked.
“But coming from you, I call shenanigans.”
“Max, if you want to stay and keep Vee company, then do so. I hope he forces you to run diagnostic checks on all the backup systems.”
The doors to Aaron’s quarters closed cutting off whatever Max mumbled which sounded something like “flying through atmosphere on a metal trap piloted by a kid”.
Chapter 17 – Mission given, Mission accomplished
Atlas Prime
Atlas was a tech-5 world. Despite that, the corporations knew not everyone who qualified for employment in advanced research, wanted to live in sky cities. With that in mind, tech-5 worlds catered for their brilliant employees who hailed from other worlds where these towering ceramic skylines didn’t exist.
A paltry one billion out of Atlas’s twenty-one billion people lived on the surface where the infrastructure mimicked a tech-3 and tech-4 world. The lower city had the usual residential and industrial areas. There were research and manufacturing districts. Completing the image was a maze of streets and other infrastructure each similar to the concrete jungles of twenty-first century Earth.
Nearly an hour ago the Commander and Lieutenant Delaine made their way up into a nearby atmospheric tower to rendezvous with the Separatist contact. Lee and Miroslav sat in a booth in what Lee supposed was a classy diner. They would provide backing for the Commander if the need arose. He loathed all this sitting and waiting. He was certain the Commander despised this duty as much as he did. In fact, he’d only agreed to volunteer for the mission because they said the Commander would need his skills.
If Commander Rayne ordered him to decompress an airlock and blast himself into space without a suit—he would. He would follow him to the end.
You’re the only sharpshooter and unparalleled martial artist in the Fleet. That’s what Supreme Commander Shepherd told him when he recruited them for the mission. How did that qualify him as an intelligence operative? He shook his head—either Shepherd was an overly optimistic fellow or the man had a morbid sense of humor.
Only time would tell.
Everyone else might feel he was impulsive, maybe rash, but he was command material compared to the puny flyboy Yuri “Flaps” Miroslav. The kid’s ego was larger than a star’s corona. While Lee could appreciate the intricacies involved in clandestine ops, he wasn’t quite sure about Flaps. How could the USSF possibly think it was a good idea to let someone so young near the controls of a starship?
The annoying pilot asked the same question again, for what seemed like the tenth time in less than an hour.
“So what are we looking for, Lee?”
Lee drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked at Flaps. It seemed on this mission Lee would be playing the role of Vee. He set the gear with his “toys” down next to them as the server delivered their order.