Post by Lorpius Prime on May 11, 2009 2:13:22 GMT -5
Prologue
GJS Liberator, Kuiper Belt, 2206 AD.
Gazwah Michael tapped a finger on the arm of his chair as he surveyed his command deck. It was smaller than the compartments used by Fleet ships of the same class. There were three reasons for that. Partly it reflected a design philosophy with less emphasis on excessively detailed instrumentation than that favored by Fleet engineers. Partly it reflected the Jihad's more pressing manpower concerns and resultant willingness to consolidate command duties. Mostly it reflected the fact that the Liberator and her sister ships had very little volume to spare for such luxuries as a spacious bridge.
The reason for that was that every one of the thirty-three ships in her flotilla were equipped with a new machine, a machine which would at long last bless the Jihad with victory. Michael himself had commanded the cruiser which had seized the original technology from the Ifriti transport seven years ago. Even then he had known that it would be the key to his people's triumph, and that knowledge would have given him more than sufficient satisfaction for the remainder of his mortal existence. He had been granted command of the flotilla as a hero's reward; Michael would have never dared presume to ask for such an honor himself.
By themselves the Liberator, the eight other cruisers, and the flotilla's two-dozen destroyers were worth more than the combined might of every ship in the Fleet. More than every ship of the entire Line, Michael corrected himself. The other Gazwaht didn't think the Ifriti had ever bothered apply their own equipment in the manner that the Jihad's engineers had developed. Michael did know, from his own contacts, that the Fleet had a very good idea what was going on, to the point that many of those contacts were envious. But the Fleet was still too comitted to the Line to risk offending the Ifriti, and so the task of liberation fell to the Jihad alone, as its followers had always known it would.
An officer in the pit below Michael turned in his chair and Michael lifted his chin from his left palm to pay attention. The officer in question was Rashid, the only other Mujahid on Michael's command staff, and the one in charge of monitoring Liberator's special equipment. Which meant...
"Sir," Rashid announced, "the sensors are reporting a shadow."
Michael could feel the tension which engulfed the command deck, and he nodded slowly, careful not to betray his own nerves to the others.
"Are they able to resolve the image?"
Rashid glanced back at his monitor for a moment, "No sir. One indistinct detection."
Michael started to grimace, but the emotion was interrupted by another of his officers. Nicole, a Fedaya and the only woman among the bridge crew, nearly jumped out of her chair. "Vindicator reports two discrete shadows, sir."
Michael rotated his chair towards the communications officer, but she was too engaged with her console to turn around, "Emancipator confirms two discrete shadows," she reported. "And..." she stumbled and at last turned back to look at Michael, eyes wide in fear, "their detection is positive for acceleration."
Michael nodded gravely, hoping his confidence would reassure her and the other Fedayeen who were looking toward him.
"I can confirm two discrete now," Rashid called, his faith immune to the mounting worry of the others. "Both shadows are decelerating to zero about point-oh-six AU from our position."
Michael keyed up the data onto his own monitor for consideration. "All cruisers except Deliverance are confirming," Nicole announced, and Michael waved in acknowledgment.
"Shadows have completed deceleration at predicted coordinates," the tactical officer announced, more for the benefit of his comrades than Michael, who could already see the sensor data.
"The two closest destroyers?" he asked.
"Vindicator and Justice," the tactical officer, his name was Suk, responded.
"Very well," Michael folded his hands together, "assign their targets and tell them to stand by warp drives, they will engage on my signal."
"Radar's got a reading!" shouted the Fedaya monitoring the Liberator's more conventional sensors. "Not much, probably just an antenna."
"They're broadcasting," Nicole chimed in, confirming the sensor officer's hypothesis. "It's the standard."
Michael took a deep breath, then stood up. All eyes were once again upon him.
"Then let us have a final look upon the face of our enemy," he said. "All monitors."
The gesture was unusually dramatic, but Michael felt the enormity of their situation justified a bit of theater. Such emotional cues could make a big difference in morale, and Michael might not ever get another chance to reach his crew this way. Michael expected to survive this operation, but he had not risen to his position by refusing to acknowledge the possibility of failure. And even if Liberator survived…
"Repeat our feed throughout the flotilla as well," he amended, and the communications officer adjusted her controls to comply.
Every non-essential monitor on the Liberator's command deck and throughout the entire ship flickered to display the incoherent static which announced a forthcoming video message. Michael considered saying a few words to the fleet before the message appeared, but quickly discarded the thought as he ran out of time.
The message was not the same as the one the Jihad showed in its schools and academies. No one was really sure if the videos were pre-recorded or produced on the spot. If they were recordings, however, the Maridjinn had updated their library. The face of the man which appeared on the monitors barely showed the presence of the machines which the jinn used to whisper to him. Michael had to bite his lip to remind himself that what he was looking at was not the image of a man. It was not even an infidel, but a soulless corpse.
Still, even if the jinn had replaced their puppet, their words remained the same.
"Hello," said the abomination on the screen. Its mouth moved like an ordinary man's, but its pale blue eyes remained unblinkingly fixed on some arbitrary point in the distance. "The presumed human occupants of your human vessels are welcomed to the Solar System. You will presently be assigned to appropriately fulfilling and needed tasks according to current Doctrine in pursuit of Salvation. We regret to inform you that ongoing conflict between Doctrine and unassigned humans necessitates that your assignments take place under threat of overwhelming force. If you are volunteers, you need not be alarmed; discontinue acceleration and maneuvers and await the presence of Doctrine instructors. Otherwise, Doctrine instructors will presently disassemble your vessels and proceed with involuntary assignment. Welcome."
The video signal and its terrible avatar winked out of existence.
There was a brief silence on the command deck as Michael thought a brief prayer for the soul of the man who had just addressed them. Rashid probably did the same, and perhaps even some of the Fedayeen did so as well.
The tactical officer was the first to break the silence. "Shadows are accelerating again," he announced, and transferred his tracking data to Michael's display before his commander could ask.
"You have assigned targets and vectors for Justice and Vindicator?"
"Yes sir," Suk looked over his shoulder to nod gravely.
Michael returned the gesture, "Then order them to engage."
He clasped his hands behind his back and looked up at the low ceiling as the tactical officer entered the commands.
"Record a message for their crews, Sister Nicole," he said. "'May God's blessing be upon you.'"
GJS Liberator, Kuiper Belt, 2206 AD.
Gazwah Michael tapped a finger on the arm of his chair as he surveyed his command deck. It was smaller than the compartments used by Fleet ships of the same class. There were three reasons for that. Partly it reflected a design philosophy with less emphasis on excessively detailed instrumentation than that favored by Fleet engineers. Partly it reflected the Jihad's more pressing manpower concerns and resultant willingness to consolidate command duties. Mostly it reflected the fact that the Liberator and her sister ships had very little volume to spare for such luxuries as a spacious bridge.
The reason for that was that every one of the thirty-three ships in her flotilla were equipped with a new machine, a machine which would at long last bless the Jihad with victory. Michael himself had commanded the cruiser which had seized the original technology from the Ifriti transport seven years ago. Even then he had known that it would be the key to his people's triumph, and that knowledge would have given him more than sufficient satisfaction for the remainder of his mortal existence. He had been granted command of the flotilla as a hero's reward; Michael would have never dared presume to ask for such an honor himself.
By themselves the Liberator, the eight other cruisers, and the flotilla's two-dozen destroyers were worth more than the combined might of every ship in the Fleet. More than every ship of the entire Line, Michael corrected himself. The other Gazwaht didn't think the Ifriti had ever bothered apply their own equipment in the manner that the Jihad's engineers had developed. Michael did know, from his own contacts, that the Fleet had a very good idea what was going on, to the point that many of those contacts were envious. But the Fleet was still too comitted to the Line to risk offending the Ifriti, and so the task of liberation fell to the Jihad alone, as its followers had always known it would.
An officer in the pit below Michael turned in his chair and Michael lifted his chin from his left palm to pay attention. The officer in question was Rashid, the only other Mujahid on Michael's command staff, and the one in charge of monitoring Liberator's special equipment. Which meant...
"Sir," Rashid announced, "the sensors are reporting a shadow."
Michael could feel the tension which engulfed the command deck, and he nodded slowly, careful not to betray his own nerves to the others.
"Are they able to resolve the image?"
Rashid glanced back at his monitor for a moment, "No sir. One indistinct detection."
Michael started to grimace, but the emotion was interrupted by another of his officers. Nicole, a Fedaya and the only woman among the bridge crew, nearly jumped out of her chair. "Vindicator reports two discrete shadows, sir."
Michael rotated his chair towards the communications officer, but she was too engaged with her console to turn around, "Emancipator confirms two discrete shadows," she reported. "And..." she stumbled and at last turned back to look at Michael, eyes wide in fear, "their detection is positive for acceleration."
Michael nodded gravely, hoping his confidence would reassure her and the other Fedayeen who were looking toward him.
"I can confirm two discrete now," Rashid called, his faith immune to the mounting worry of the others. "Both shadows are decelerating to zero about point-oh-six AU from our position."
Michael keyed up the data onto his own monitor for consideration. "All cruisers except Deliverance are confirming," Nicole announced, and Michael waved in acknowledgment.
"Shadows have completed deceleration at predicted coordinates," the tactical officer announced, more for the benefit of his comrades than Michael, who could already see the sensor data.
"The two closest destroyers?" he asked.
"Vindicator and Justice," the tactical officer, his name was Suk, responded.
"Very well," Michael folded his hands together, "assign their targets and tell them to stand by warp drives, they will engage on my signal."
"Radar's got a reading!" shouted the Fedaya monitoring the Liberator's more conventional sensors. "Not much, probably just an antenna."
"They're broadcasting," Nicole chimed in, confirming the sensor officer's hypothesis. "It's the standard."
Michael took a deep breath, then stood up. All eyes were once again upon him.
"Then let us have a final look upon the face of our enemy," he said. "All monitors."
The gesture was unusually dramatic, but Michael felt the enormity of their situation justified a bit of theater. Such emotional cues could make a big difference in morale, and Michael might not ever get another chance to reach his crew this way. Michael expected to survive this operation, but he had not risen to his position by refusing to acknowledge the possibility of failure. And even if Liberator survived…
"Repeat our feed throughout the flotilla as well," he amended, and the communications officer adjusted her controls to comply.
Every non-essential monitor on the Liberator's command deck and throughout the entire ship flickered to display the incoherent static which announced a forthcoming video message. Michael considered saying a few words to the fleet before the message appeared, but quickly discarded the thought as he ran out of time.
The message was not the same as the one the Jihad showed in its schools and academies. No one was really sure if the videos were pre-recorded or produced on the spot. If they were recordings, however, the Maridjinn had updated their library. The face of the man which appeared on the monitors barely showed the presence of the machines which the jinn used to whisper to him. Michael had to bite his lip to remind himself that what he was looking at was not the image of a man. It was not even an infidel, but a soulless corpse.
Still, even if the jinn had replaced their puppet, their words remained the same.
"Hello," said the abomination on the screen. Its mouth moved like an ordinary man's, but its pale blue eyes remained unblinkingly fixed on some arbitrary point in the distance. "The presumed human occupants of your human vessels are welcomed to the Solar System. You will presently be assigned to appropriately fulfilling and needed tasks according to current Doctrine in pursuit of Salvation. We regret to inform you that ongoing conflict between Doctrine and unassigned humans necessitates that your assignments take place under threat of overwhelming force. If you are volunteers, you need not be alarmed; discontinue acceleration and maneuvers and await the presence of Doctrine instructors. Otherwise, Doctrine instructors will presently disassemble your vessels and proceed with involuntary assignment. Welcome."
The video signal and its terrible avatar winked out of existence.
There was a brief silence on the command deck as Michael thought a brief prayer for the soul of the man who had just addressed them. Rashid probably did the same, and perhaps even some of the Fedayeen did so as well.
The tactical officer was the first to break the silence. "Shadows are accelerating again," he announced, and transferred his tracking data to Michael's display before his commander could ask.
"You have assigned targets and vectors for Justice and Vindicator?"
"Yes sir," Suk looked over his shoulder to nod gravely.
Michael returned the gesture, "Then order them to engage."
He clasped his hands behind his back and looked up at the low ceiling as the tactical officer entered the commands.
"Record a message for their crews, Sister Nicole," he said. "'May God's blessing be upon you.'"