In the darkness of the small hall, not a single diad burned, and the walls were not visible, only two men were here, looking at a small display.
"Are you sure about him, Lord Heselhof?" said the legionary in white plate armor.
"More than..." grumbled a certain old man, leaning on the table.
The display showed the dejected, stubble-overgrown face of a skinny young man with a tail of unwashed chestnut hair. His gray-green eyes with black sclera expressed no emotions, and his pale skin seemed to be translucent with bones of steel.
"Yutsuo Vermelius, callsign: "Shadow". Born on the station "Rion" of the "Asahi" prefecture, grew up in a dysfunctional family, underwent full cybernetization at an early age and got into debt, illegally immigrated to the "Alpha" sector and began working for the shepherd (name redacted) of his filthy race, earned a reputation as a pirate hunter, was accepted into the PMC "Star Storm", suspected in a series of bloody murders of high-ranking officials throughout the sector.
When the legionary finished, the old man didn't even twitch an ear, standing like a statue.
"I'll repeat the question: are you sure we need THIS frame?" bile was heard in every word of the warrior, "Not only is he a lousy non-human, but also mentally unstable. Look at his psychopassport, he is..."
"Silence..." steel in Heselhof's voice made the legionary step back.
Hissing, the warrior headed for the exit from the hall.
"What nonsense, you called him, and he..."
"Right now, everyone who can smile death in the face is on the account." the old man sighed heavily, waving his hand and switching the screen to the communication panel, "Tell English to be ready to move to the right dock. Guests are met according to merit, even if they are not trained in manners..."
"I will certainly tell, and I will lay the best route for this Shadow so that he definitely doesn't get lost on the way." the legionary grinned, the hermo-door closed behind his back.
Pressing on the instrumentarium, he found the communication channel named "Orochi"...
*
[Dreadnought: "Justice" – elevator platform]
The mechanism descended along the flickering bulkheads of the decks, the steel doors smoothly parted, opening the halls of the ship's mind – the bridge.
The lower part of the spacious room was bursting with computing centers and monitors, behind each of which sat motley mercenaries in black jackets, whose concentration bordered on the desire to quickly work off the shift and rush into the arms of dakimakura.
The upper part of the bridge cone was occupied by screens that created the illusion of transparency, but were armor. Contemplating space through them was pure pleasure, because in case of an enemy attack, he definitely wouldn't hit you.
"Captain on the bridge!" Mako took her place in the center of the room, next to the control equipment and the greasy captain's chair.
The radioman with a red bandage on his forehead, the eternally cheerful helmsman, and even the first officer herself (not without a bit of mockery) saluted me along with the personnel.
The contingent knew on whose ship they plowed the expanses of the "Milky Way" and didn't pay attention to how the Captain wiped his pale face with his sleeve and plopped down in his rightful place.
"At ease..." I waved to the combatants and stared at the tactical situation screens.
The jackets stopped saluting and returned to protocol.
"Admiral Deimos Heselhof on the line. He wants to speak to you personally!" the radioman to the left of the bridge tip turned on the holo-projector.
The lens carved behind the tactical map flashed with a cone of light, projecting the figure of a rather tall, elderly man with distinctly Imperial features; namely, a masculine chin and cheekbones.
Slowly surveying the surroundings, the Admiral crossed his arms over his chest and raised his chin:
"Captain Yutsuo, I understand that your dreadnought is only your property, but this does not give you the authority to ignore orders from your employers. According to the contract, you were supposed to immediately get in touch as soon as there is an assignment for you! Do you know that forty minutes have already passed since my call?! I timed it. What were you even doing?.."
"You see... My communicator broke down... suddenly... Fortunately, the first officer came just in time, but couldn't open the door!.. The mechanism jammed... Right, Mako?"
Of course, instead of an answer, Mako just turned away, and the crew members began to glance at each other, barely holding back laughter.
"Well... say something at least..."
The tension from the staring game grew every second, but fortunately, the Admiral quickly got bored with this moderate clowning:
"Captain. We have an emergency, your dreadnought must immediately arrive at Frouros-XVII, briefing will be there, you'll get answers to questions on site too!" without ceremony for another second, Deimos turned off the hologram.
The combatants turned to me as one.
"Agh... Attention, all systems to cruising mode, preparation for warp jump!"
The jackets returned their gazes to the monitors, my thoughts...
The world seemed to become archival footage, the space spilled with the flame of cyan light, the inferno of bloody clashes of thousands of capital ships that tore each other apart, while on the horizon loomed gigantic artifact worlds – necropolises of the precursors.
Millions died in the abyss and on the ground, trying to tear a piece from them.
"Damn... so the Imperial chained dog, not just to the VANGUARD's dick, but to an Equistella mercenary... without intermediaries... probably hasn't happened since the "Iridosmine War"..."
Succumbing to reflection, I didn't immediately hear Mako's call:
"We're hanging in space and ready for the jump, just waiting for the command!"
"Ah... right..." the illusion dissipated, I sighed heavily, "Everyone to stations according to post-battle protocol! Jump on my command! Countdown!.."
The sharp nose of the ship immediately emitted a hiss of depressurization, exposing the mechanisms hidden under the armor plates.
Turning to the mother-abyss, the dreadnought called beams of ghostly light that rushed forward for a couple of kilometers and, colliding with an invisible barrier, were reborn.
The void flashed with stellar fire, so that in its depths a point of singularity arose – a jump rift. The portal edge distorted reality like the huge maw of a monster, splitting the ship's nose in desire to throw it through the world horizon.
And when the glow of the summoned element engulfed the entire hull, I said my word:
"3, 2, 1, WARP!!!"
The colossal machine flew into subspace in an instant.
After a zero moment, the portal collapsed, and a translucent wave of residual energy rolled through the area. As if announcing the moment of our displacement, fireflies of photons began to rise from the hull gathered into one.
[Sector: "Alpha", gravitational well of the station: "Watchman-XVII"]
Checking the integrity of internal systems, I buried myself in the control console, and grimacing a bit at the clearly extra numbers, commanded:
"Engines from the third to the twelfth in marching mode, first and second at 30% thrust, we're heading to the "Watchman-XVII" station!"
Warming up the stern nozzles, the dreadnought narrowed the ring sheets of the TVM and increased thrust. Columns of orange flame flashed threefold, forcing the metal monster to rush forward, straight through the nebula of icy color.
Hiding itself in a sea of unstable matter, in the middle of a field of stones slumbered a colossal astroengineering structure.
The Imperial stronghold evoked not the most pleasant memories, and yet, this horizontal, ringed with defensive towers gray pyramid with a seemingly cut-off top could well strike someone's imagination.
The legionaries had their own, exclusive sense of style, so their ships were always adorned with regalia, tower armors were motley with gold-cast emblems and trim, and stations resembled neo-Gothic cathedrals with gun spikes and platinum inscriptions, one of which shone brightly on the giga-spire of the giant presented to us.
The seventeenth fortress of the class: "Frouros", or in translation to universal: "Watchman".
While we were flying, it was impossible not to notice the incredible number of ships near the station. The "Watchman" couldn't accommodate such a large fleet inside, so the ships stood in orbit of its gravitational well, not even dreaming of docking.
Examining the "crowd", I counted a good hundred capitals, but special attention was drawn to the flagship of the Ordinatum fleet, resembling a multi-kilometer block of white ferrite, superdreadnought: "Supernova" – a monster dotted with PVO turrets of the class: "Procyon".
This was the personal toy of Admiral Deimos Heselhof himself.
Meanwhile, the dreadnought approached the port. Running her hand over the console, Mako activated the communication channel, where a call from the control center – the dispatch tower – came in.
"Authorize for further docking..." said a dry and tired female voice.
Several elongated ovals of police corvettes – "Talman" with red and blue lights flew in a wedge near our bridge, meanwhile conducting fan beams-scanners along each nearby ship.
"Heavy dreadnought of the series: "Tempest" – HD-CVIIJ: "Justice", requests permission to anchor... My callsign in the system: "Shadow"... And send a "Nomad" to our coordinates..." though my lips were moving, in my mind I was in "reboot".
"System recognition confirmed... Welcome, Captain. Expect the shuttle in about ten minutes…"
"Don't go far, I think our conversation won't be too long…" I stood up, folded my hands behind my back and headed under the crew's gazes to the hated elevator platform.
"Working again... and what does he want... unless the pirates assembled an armada and intercepted some subsector, otherwise I don't understand at all what sense it is to chase a whole dreadnought..."
Sighing sorrowfully, I entered the elevator and was about to press the omni-panel, but seeing that Mako was catching up with me, I hesitated.
"I'll accompany you!" catching her breath, the first officer stepped forward.
"Why? There's no such order..."
"This is not up for discussion! And we all know that YOU, Captain, don't know how to handle standard weapons, and carry it for show. THEREFORE, I'll guard you! Don't worry, Thomas will be in charge for now." Mako shifted her gaze to my named plasmagun and pressed the elevator button.
"Who knows what might go wrong…"
"Alright, my safety is now your prerogative. Heh-heh..." smiling, I crossed my hands behind my back again, listening to the hum of the descending structure.
The minutes flew by almost instantly.
Leaving the platform, Mako and I entered the flight hangar, where life was in full swing.
The high room, whose ceiling practically reached two hundred meters, could easily accommodate up to fifty mosquito ships, or three dozen mediums.
The surface of this deck was motley with dividing markings and blood-red light strips, designating areas of kinetic catapults. "Shells" for these mechanisms also lay not far.
Several bottomless floors housed levitation racks for arrow-shaped interceptors and horseshoe assault ships (gunships) – high-maneuverability fighters.
All this beauty stood idle, but could activate on alarm, as well as its guards.
Engineers in yellow jumpsuits were conducting linear maintenance of the ships, rummaging in their inner world, and pilots in red, on the contrary, were idling playing "Heroes of the Conflict", or just talking among themselves.
Noticing that the Captain and First Officer honored them with a visit, the mercenaries greeted us according to the charter, and only one boy slightly miscalculated and got tangled in the wires.
The tech comrades weren't particularly in a hurry to help him, quietly giggling.
"Let me help..." I approached the victim and began untangling the ribbons with cables, gloomily glancing at the amused ones.
"Thank you... You just come down here so rarely, so I..." when the bonds loosened, the technician squeezed my palm, stood up to full height, and with a smile repeated the salute.
"Welcome to the flight deck, Captain!"
Nodding, I headed to the protective barrier, where between two assault units stood the sharp hexahedron of the arrived starship. The "Nomad" was painted as befits units of the imperial troops: in white and orange stripes, and its airlocks were already open, waiting for clients.
Briefly assessing the stinginess of the interior, Mako and I went further and sat down in the seats.
The shuttle immediately collapsed the doors, blew through the marching engines, undocked from the slot and slowly turned its nose to the force field.
"Destination, Dock-12U, residential area of the third circle…" dryly mumbled, sitting far behind the armored partition.
"Stop! What do you mean residential, I need administrative!!!"
For a while, silence hung in the shuttle, but the "taxi" driver broke it:
"Docks from the first to the eleventh are jammed, you'll have to disembark in the residential sector and get to the command assembly point on foot..."
"On foot?! You're kidding... That's three kilometers of walking! And the area... not particularly..."
"Don't worry, my Captain. At least we can practice shooting!" Mako threw her hands behind her head and sprawled on the couch.
Suppressing anger with all my might, I glanced at the figure beside me and leaned my arm on the porthole.
In front of each dock, giant ship queues lined up. Border control and docking were going very slowly, so weighing all the "pros" and "cons", I almost immediately fell into a doze...
And then... suddenly... no... This won't do!..
In fact, everything started a couple of Sothis before the "emergency call".
Being a completely ordinary mercenary, I vainly looked for employers in places abandoned by the gods, where superpowers couldn't gain a foothold.
My inexperience caused many mistakes, losses and changes, but despite them, the reputation of a pilot who surgically precisely controls the combat lasers of his named "Glimpse" soon spread throughout the Alpha sector... and he was invited somewhere.
"Star Storm" – elite imperially-oriented PMC, the dream of any soldier of fortune.
The management immediately issued me a personal hangar and the right to walk through any nooks of "Watchman-XVII". And then everything went as per routine: a stable credit flow, influence among allies and instilling fear in enemies.
And then I met Mako...
*
1: V.A.N.G.U.A.R.D. (Vanguard Autonomous Network of Galactic Unified Alliance Rangers Deployment) – militaristic conglomerate, PMC.
2: Equistella – exiles from "Old Earth", who became synthetics to survive in the depths of distant space.
3: Iridosmine War – conflict for the Alpha sector, from Harrow 760th to Dios 761st.
4: TVM (Thrust Vector Management) – module for controlling the plasma exhaust of a starship.
5: Ordinatum – the largest imperial-monarchic superpower.
6: Omni-Panel – pseudo-holographic area for working with information.
Important reference: calendar of the new world...
Sol – pan-galactic light cycle...
Seven sols = one Taël...
Names of sols: Pandeya, Valta, Sipona, Gersa, Callisto, Samedi et Dimanche...
Four taëls = Quad – vingt-huit Sols...
Thirteen quads = Sothis – galactic cycle...
Names of quads: Janus, Febras, Magestum, Julius, Silendis, Ares, Harrow, Dios, Afront, Chronim, Helios, Augurus et Lua...
Pan-galactic time is counted independently of local...