The fleet was similar to many of humanity's stations and fleets. The simple design has served as a basic chassis for millennia providing ergonomic flexibility and ensuring the health of the inhabitants. The design for each station is a ring of living space which rotated around a "spine" to generate gravity. Docks were provided at the spine, the docks being close to stationary and without gravity. From here people, supplies, and even ships can be spun until they matched the station, then moved to the ring. Stations come in a variety of sizes. The Fleet chassis is the largest mobile size, with room for smaller stations and ships along its ring and fusion reactors at the tail of the the spine. The chassis can be joined, spine to spine giving a large, long Fleet-Ship, carrying enough cargo and passengers to colonise a new system, Enlighten a string of systems, or raid a colony.The most important aspect of the Fleet-ship design is, though, all in the name. It is a fleet, holding many stations and ships, to be released as needed. Yet it is also a single ship. Trying to coordinate a true fleet of various ships when travelling at Jink speed between systems is close to impossible- tracking ones own exact position is hard enough without trying to communicate it to others and make it relevant to their position. Oh, and the flaming carnage when two ships crash into one another, which is nearly certain, that's quite off putting. Fleets are essential.
Corridor 27V was like much the rest of the fleet- in so much as it had apparently been uniquely designed by its inhabitants, aided by various robots and the dead. The design here appeared minimalistic, boring even. Walls coloured white with a hint of green, occasionally broken by impressions of tree trunks set into the walls, their roots snaking out onto the floor. The ceiling glowed with a mild, passive, light. Half way down stood a man late into his second century of life, much of his body soft mechanical replacements, as well as a few additions. He was talking to the devious little wall console as Alxi arrived.
"Ah, here he comes, the little Coald pilot boy! Any idea what you're here for, m'boy?", the near-cyborg inquired.
"No idea old man. Can you remember why you're here?", Alxi retorted.
"We're here to watch out for little upstarts like you.", the console announced, "now come over here."
Alxi walked past the man, watching his smirking face as he passed, turning to the console set in the wall. The near-cyborg stood behind him, allowing his smirk to grow. The console was at head height, it's screen showing the small face of a man.
"Stand closer," the console commanded, "closer. Get your nose up against mine. Let me see you properly. Don't be shy. That's it. Closer. NOW!"
Alxi was pushed forcefully from behind. The console fell away, relieving a dark hole. Yet Alxi's feet caught on the tree roots, causing him to fall head first into the abyss.
The console flipped back into place.
"Gets em every time" it joked.
"Kids these days", the near-cyborg theatrically rolled his eyes, before bursting into semi-electrical laughter.
Alxi felt his fall slow. The air was warm and moist. Was it air? It grasped at his skin. There was a taste. A smell. A glow.
Deep below him sat 15 figures in a loose circle. All were surrounded by a mass of black wires, each wore a pilot helmet. Alxi was still falling towards them as black wires snaked around him, a helmet grasping around his head and shoulders. All was dark as he allowed for the adjustment. He had no idea what was going on, but anything involving a helm he was sure he could deal with.
The software generated a new image which flickered into life about him. 15 figures in a variety of grabs, or lack there of, sat around the table. A few he recognised from th Coald council, as well as the large figure of Mrs Doyle, head of Coald security. Some wore the robes of tutors. One freely showed off a caste array of unique mechanical augmentation, evidently a Venergy ambassador.
Alxi sat between the Profess and the only individual present dressed in the present Habito fashion of a plain synchskin.
"This is Alxi,", the Profess introduced him, "on of my most promising Coald students", Alxi blushed at the praise, "He was on the Habito world of Lyon for much of the last 14 years. It is my hope that he will be able to aid our planning where our Hagent can not", she indicated the Habito woman next to Alxi.
"Alxi, I know you realise who all these people as some of the highest ranked within the system. You also know the composition of our grouping. We are scanning your mind. Don't lie. Why are we here?"
"Gentleman Summerfield", the words left Alxi before he could stop them, "you've been informed of his government and its inability to hold to Enlightenment protocol of the 5 freedoms. You will attempt to negotiate with his government and people, which will be pointless, them you'll open discussion with the lesser Habito governments, before opening a 'police action'. Though, as he'll then cede from Enlightenment guidance and system government it will be actually classed as an invasion, until you write the history books.", his voice was flat as he realised why he was here. He wanted to smile, to be as glad as the Habito would be, but couldn't bring himself to.
The group ignored his last snide remark. It was the head of Coald security who spoke first,
"Why is it pointless for us to open talks with Summerfield's government?"
"I didn't mean his government, ma'am, though I'm sure they won't be much help either. His citizens are all zombies though. Happy clappy zombies, I believe you've called the ones that are in the cells.", eyes turned to Doyle.
"You have Habito in your cells?" The man next to Alxi asked in shock.
"How did you know about them?", Doyle scowled at Alxi. He'd forgotten where he was, who he was speaking to, he didn't seem to be able to hold back the secrets he knew. He wondered if it was the Scholars' helm.
"I came back with a number of Habito. We were all given our medical before being allowed in. My father said he was glad I passed and hadn't become a zombie. After I asked about it he told me, secretly, about your previous council meetings and your rehabilitation centre.", Doyle scowled at the words. She turned to the rest of the table, her hands opened up in front of here, a gesture of offering up hidden truths.
"We occasionally get out casts or students from the Habito. Summerfield sends us a steadily increasing supply. They were one of the reasons we wanted the Scholars to come. How we know what's going on in Lyon. The end of the 5 freedoms. The reason we must plan an invasion."
to be continued....
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