"Tour"

Posted on Sun Jul 25th, 2021 @ 11:10pm by James Green & Lieutenant JG Miraj Derani & Captain Yasmine Carrington

Mission: Season 5: Episode 2: Operation Save Humanity
Location: Various
Timeline: MD 7 - 09h00
1409 words - 2.8 OF Standard Post Measure

The halls were filled with earnest energy. It crackled in the air like static electricity as every new report of outsiders visiting the colony came in. The reports were a horribly mixed bag of results. James didn’t like it one bit. He could feel his control over the populace waning with each and every update to the threat-assessment board.

A silver tip floated down over his vision. James sighed. Illia had insisted he start to grow it out to look more likable in his public appearances, but his salt-and-pepper bangs were starting to become a nuisance to his vision. The fingers of his right hand brushed the locks away as his left hand brought a mug to his lips. The steaming java sent a shudder through his spine as the fumes wafted through his nostrils and the liquid warmed him from the inside.

He was in full uniform, as he had been every day of his career, but this day was different. He could feel it in his gut. Things were about to change for the better. Sure, this ‘Starfleet’ and their ‘Federation’ were not what he’d expected, but that didn’t matter. He would make them see the error of their ways. He would solve this crisis, one way or another.

“Where are we on those away teams? Did they send more?” He questioned his right-hand man.

Vice Marshal Loen Reigh stood motionless at Mission Control, his back to President Green. He replied simply, “No.”

“And?” James hated playing these games with Loen, but he couldn’t afford to spend the time fighting with him about it, either. The Vice Marshal would string him along the narrative until he said all the right things.

“And they’ve done naught since yesterday.”

“Nothing?” It felt strange. Usually, his Vice Marshal had plenty of ideas and all kinds of data points to consider. His simple matter-of-fact answer with no hint of sarcasm or glib self-serving superiority was almost disturbing.

“Nothing. The away teams came, made their mark, then returned to the Elysium.”

“Okay,” James sighed, approaching Loen. When he reached the Vice Marshal’s side, he leaned onto the guard rail, letting those troublesome bangs float over his vision, again. “So how do we get inside?”

“We don’t,” Loen answered, “it’s too powerful. The Elysium is too advanced and too well guarded. Overpowering their defenses without significant reprisal is… unlikely.”

“Sneak in?”

“Sensor technology is too advanced.”

James let his head fall downward towards his arms on the guard rail. His forehead thudded quietly against the soft material of his presidential uniform.”

“Did you consider asking them nicely?” Loen quietly suggested.

For a long moment, James was tempted to laugh at the idea. “And say what? ‘Pretty please let us aboard so I can convert you to our cause whether you like it or not?’”

“No, sir,” The Vice Marshal held up a hand, tapping something on his console, “I mean the Elysium is currently hailing us.”

That got his attention. James shot up to his full height, messing with his hair and straightening his uniform with a tug. “Everyone out!” The various crews that had been working in MIssion Control all stopped and turned to look at him. “Go! Get out!”

As the room was vacated, James looked up again at the map of space with the USS Elysium sitting pretty in the center. He didn’t even pay attention to those who scurried beneath him on their way out.

“Vice Marshal… on screen.”

It was not, however, one of the Elysium crew that appeared on screen, but the historian who had accompanied them. "President Green, thank you for speaking with me."

James blinked several times then cleared his throat. "Mr. Smith, was it? I must admit, I... was expecting someone else."

"Dr Wells-Smith. I can only apologise for events, Mr. President. I'm afraid the team here was very badly briefed, something I only realised until afterwards. I was hoping to reach out and offer a new start."

Intrigue spread across his features as the President asked, "A new start?" He looked away to share a look with his Vice Marshal before continuing, "What would you suggest we do?"

"I'd like to invite you to the Elysium, to discuss our mutual and divergent histories. There's a lot we need to tell you and perhaps you'd be more comfortable with our hospitality?"

Loen Reigh stepped into view, tilting his head as he made clear his position, "I hope you'll understand that I can't allow our President to go off-planet without an escort..."

James rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, whatever, I guess I'll take one of our men with me."

"One!?" The Vice Marshal gave his leader a rare show of emotion, clearly unhappy, "Surely, you jest..."

James sighed, getting aggravated, "Trust can't be earned if I go with a whole unit in tow!"

Loen returned the sigh with his own, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so. "I suppose there's no stopping you, then."

Energy returned to James' form as he turned his whole body back towards the viewscreen, "Sorry you had to hear all of that, doctor, but I like your idea! I think there is a lot we could learn from each other."

"Then might I invite you to have lunch onboard the Elysium later today? I appreciate this might be short notice, but I'm not sure if the captain will be persuaded to remain much longer. I'm afraid there's been something of a failure of communication in the systems here."

"I'd be happy to speak with you about whatever you wish, though... there's the issue of transportation. Should I travel in one of our shuttles or in yours?"

"Well." Dr. Wells-Smith said "I think we can arrange something. You may find it quite interesting."

There was a short pause. The quizzical look persisted as James asked, "What do you have in mind?"

"A demonstration of some of the things that have developed since your ancestors' departure. Why don't you and say, five, guests, assemble where we originally met at noon your time, and we'll pick you up."

James' brow perked every so slightly before he replied, "Oh, right, I'm sure I could find five, uh, friends, yes. Noon, was it? I understand... anything else?"

"Just..." The historian stopped to choose his words. "Things did not work out as your ancestors hoped, Mr. President. We opened up and joined the wider galactic community. You should prepare to see things you might find distasteful. I want to show you how humans are now, so you can decide if you want to be part of the Earth family, or go your own way."

"My people may not be ready, but I am," He smirked, "being prepared for change is what I'm all about."

"I'm glad to hear it," Harry replied. "In that case, I'll see you at noon."

James nodded as the feed cut out. He stared. At his flank, his second in command stood in waiting. Vice Marshal Loen Reigh observed his leader in silence. James seemed to be steeling himself in preparation. It had been a long time since Loen had seen him so focussed. Without a word, in unceremonious fashion, James finally moved. He turned, walking straight to the exit.

Loen's expression softened as he realized he was alone in Mission Control. It was very likely that his leader was calling Scyk Squad back together for one last mission. They would all probably die in service to the cause. His lips compressed as his brow raised ever so slightly. The cracks in his impregnable wall were starting to show as his shoulders fell and his hands unclenched. Looking down at them, he could see the nail imprints in his palms where they'd held so tight.

He let go a breath and walked back to the main console, his lone booted steps clanking lightly in the large room. Loen hesitated slightly, his fingers stopping and hovering just above the comm. One more deep breath. Okay.

"Raven is flying," He said into the mic.

In response, another voice called back, "Should I follow?"

"No."

"... what would you have me do?"

"Get to the royal locker as fast as you can," Loen bit his lip, his gaze falling onto a new screen he'd pulled up on the large main monitor. A blinking dot appeared on the map, then several more. "Run."