Epilogue
Status Update
HIMS Leo Rugiens, High Orbit of Bellator
"Connecting you now to Naval Expeditionary Forces Command, Herr Admiral," the operator said.
The viewscreen went black for a moment before switching over to a splitscreen view of the eight major figures of the command staff.
When humanity was first expanding into space, light speed was the limit for signals, which made smooth real-time communication impossible. Even with the development of the hyperspace gates linking the colonies of the old Union, superliminal speeds were out of reach on the Frontier, which was a particular complication in the latter years of the Sheol War. It proved to be a problem once more after the Empire was founded and began expanding beyond the Sol System. At first, the most efficient way to communicate over extreme distances was to have spacefold-capable relay ships flit back and forth. It reduced lag time significantly, but of course scientists were always looking for a new way.
Enter the Æther Drives, which were discovered to connect with each other through a superdimensional network that allowed near-instantaneous signal transmission once the trick of using them as a conduit was worked out. Even after the Alpha Types were retired following the Skyfall Calamity, Beta Types proved to be acceptable substitutes and the expeditionary fleets would have at least one in their complement of Hybrids. Therefore, status updates like this one were no major undertaking.
The commander was absent some reason, so his deputy commander was taking charge in his stead. Admiral Bogdanovic was a severe man with little warmth to him and even less patience.
"Let's get this over with, Beck," Admiral Bogdanovic said. "We have twelve more fleets to take report from today. You are currently on Day 60 of operations on Ahasuerus III, local designation 'Bellator', is that correct?"
"Daresh III," Admiral Beck corrected, "but other than that, yes."
"Your status, Beck," Admiral Bogdanovic said annoyedly, as if Admiral Beck was expected to deliver the full report in response to a yes or no question.
Admiral Beck was used to this, of course, and did not let Admiral Bogdanovic's incredibly limited patience be a source of frustration for him. He would never have lasted this long if he let every little thing get to him. There was a saying somewhere to be like water. Flow, change to fill whatever shape container you find yourself in and so on. To that end, he flowed right into his report.
"We have secured a replacement for our primary point of contact among the locals, the so-called Nikean Empire. We plan to approach the Qing and Bhutan Empires under the same premise, which will firmly establish our hold on the three main continents. Whichever one rises to the top will depend on their own efforts."
"And what happened to your initial point of contact, the Clovangian Empire, was it?"
"The Clovingian Empire," Admiral Beck corrected. "I didn't conceal a thing in the report I gave at the time. There was an irregularity with the planet's Core Unit. It activated and proved uncontrollable. Our attempts at containment failed, so we were forced to resort to a purge of the area to ensure its termination. Unfortunately for our initial point of contact, they had the misfortune of their capital being built on the site where the Core Unit was housed. Unfortunate, yes, but an acceptable loss."
"How long before the ecosystem collapses?"
"Ahasuerus III is a Goldilocks planet. We only needed the Core Unit to give the planet a kick to develop. Now that it's operating normally, we expect it to continue without the need for excessive interference on our part."
"What about the political situation on the ground?"
"We were thinking about making secondary points of contact with Los Campos ElÃseos and Hesse to divvy up Clovinia's territory. That will reduce the burden on Nikea and keep more of the locals busy."
"When do you intend to begin reintegration?"
"Within six months if all goes well, surely no more than a year, not unless there are some major complications."
"Do you foresee and major complications?"
"Not at this time, no."
"Then get us results. We expect regular follow-up reports biweekly from now on. Once things have settled down, you can make it monthly. You know the drill."
"Indeed I do. At the rate we're going, His Majesty the Emperor will welcome one more Lost World into the family."
"Is there anything else to report?"
"Negative."
"Very well. If there is nothing else, you are dismissed, Beck."
"Always a pleasure doing business with you, sir," Admiral Beck said with a grin.
It did not seem possible for Admiral Bogdanovic's perpetual frown could turn downward any more sharply, but Admiral Beck had a way of drawing out people's true potential.
The feed cut out. Admiral Beck slumped in his chair and unfastened his collar. His eyes wandered to the assorted cameras and sensors installed in the room. They were designed to be concealed from view, but if you knew what you were looking for, they were not so hidden at all. Of course, the Admiral was not relying on his mundane senses, but he could not let anyone else know that. All these little eyes and ears everywhere certainly made it more difficult to act freely.
Still, being the Lord Admiral afforded you with unparalleled latitude, rivaling the Emperor himself within the bounds of the Fleet. As the one acting in the Emperor's stead, it was little surprise, but for an unscrupulous admiral, that power could be used contrary to the Emperor's wishes. There were scarcely any who would dare attempt such a thing, as any officer inclined to committing such a breach would most likely have been screened out well before making flag rank.
The Admiral made his way to a particular compartment innocuously labelled as 'Communications Relay Substation 2'. However, it did not take terribly keen perception to realize that this room was not so innocuous because it required two-factor authentication for access, both a card swipe and a retinal scan. The Admiral was one of the few people with access outside the personnel assigned to this location. Contrary to outside appearances, it was one of the most tightly restricted parts of the ship. After all, what was being held inside was one of the most valuable assets in the Fleet.
It was no coincidence that the Admiral chose to be here right after his conference call. That most valuable asset held in the compartment was none other than the very Beta Type Hybrid that the Fleet relied on for its long-distance communications. The Beta Type was held in a containment unit called 'the Sarcophagus', a sleek high-tech coffin from which the Beta Type was never meant to leave.
There were several technicians monitoring the systems. They were not expecting to have company, much less the Lord Admiral himself. One of them had to look twice to realize who it was and even then, it took him a moment to remember his customs and courtesies.
"A, Admiral on deck!"
The confused technicians awkwardly sprang to attention and the Admiral waved for them to return to their work.
"As you were, gentlemen," he said.
The senior among the technicians, still not a person of much rank, asked him, "Herr Admiral, what brings you here?"
The Admiral looked to the Sarcophagus and asked, "How's she doing?"
The technician's eyes darted to the Sarcophagus before saying, "The Cantor, you mean, sir? Why do you ask? We didn't detect any issues with the transmission. Was there some problem with the call to Command?"
"No," the Admiral said. "Everything went just fine. I just wanted to check in on her. After all, our work would be so much more difficult without her. We owe so much to her."
The Admiral was rather well-known for his particular attachment to the Hybrids, but simply knowing about it was rarely enough to dispel people's awkward reactions to it.
"Ah, uh, yes, sir," the technician said. "All systems are operating optimally. No, ah, no trouble to report."
"Excellent," the Admiral said. "She has worked so hard for us and never once complained, not that she could even if she wanted to. Trapped in a dreamless sleep from the moment she was born. All to serve as a piece of telecom equipment. Do you think that's ethical, Unteroffizier? Do you think it's moral?"
"It... it isn't my place to think about it one or the other, Herr Admiral," the technician said.
The Admiral chuckled softly to himself.
"I suppose I shouldn't expect anything else. It's so much easier just to turn a blind eye, isn't it?"
The technician was at a loss for words, but of course he was. How many enlisted men would speak frankly to an admiral? For that matter, how many officers? Those with much survival instinct knew to keep their opinions to themselves. As a result, you could never quite tell what they were thinking.
"The time for turning a blind eye is over," the Admiral said. "People need to be held to account."
"Herr Admiral?"
The Admiral stretched out his hand and before the technician could say anything further, a gust of wind whipped about the skirts of the Admiral's tunic and a thick cloud came billowing out, quickly filling the room. Within a matter of seconds, the technicians all collapsed. However, the Admiral paid no heed to them and instead continued to hold his hand out toward the Sarcophagus. With a flex of his fingers, the plates of the Sarcophagus' outer shell shifted and began to open with a hiss as the sealed gasses within were released.
A grin crossed the Admiral's lips as said to one sleeping within the Sarcophagus, "Wake up, Sister. We have work to do."