Alliance Command

Starlight

Ch: 5 Morning Star

"It's not over until it's over."

USS Kep Salu II; Sickbay

Richson looked over his new student, as the doctors checked her over for signs of possible ill health and injury.  He doubted they would find anything wrong, other than just an extreme scare from her encounter with whoever that was, and the crazy flight.  He ruffled her crazy mane, much like he used to do to his kids, long ago, back in the day...  A day long past.

Maybe it was because she reminded him of himself back when he first started out, fire and brimstone, unafraid to take risks, often ones so crazy that people would try to put him in a mental institution.  She was much like that.  Maybe it was because of that odd ability the two of them shared.  He knew it tended to drive a person crazy if not controlled, maybe that's why he started out with such fearlessness.

He looked over to the doctors, who handed him a report on her condition.  They were used to him asking for the reports in something that people could actually understand, instead of the normal jargon.  He looked down the datapad, an eyebrow raising.  Electrical shocking, apparently from her suit re-grounding itself on the fighter, slight, though.  And, of course, the standard signs of just plain out nausium and being frightened well past one's limits.  He was familiar with those as well.

Richson thanked the doctors, turning to the holographic windows at the back of sickbay, currently showing the aft view.  Sparks moved in the dark, Richson watched them, trying to figure out what exactly they were.  Probably a graviton flux or somesuch other anomaly or phenominon trapped in the trailing end of the warp flux field.  A small portion of his mind nagged at him that the sparks could be pursuit, or a parting shot fired from the Citadel, but they had tore out of there too fast for anything of that sort.

He finally sat down on the edge of Melony's bed, crossing his arms in front of him and turning his head to look at her.  No telling how long it would take her to wake up, but no matter, he had a few days before they had to begin.  Heck, if she didn't wake in a day or so, he had his ways of helping her out of her little funk. 

Still, it was odd, once again feeling somewhat like he did.  He was an old, old man.  Richson had figured himself beyond such feelings a long time ago, after the dissapointment the last time when he tried to found his order. He mused glumly, glancing about at the light traffic of nurses attending to individuals injured in the shocks sustained in avoiding the Citadel, and those who had gotten knocked up in Melony's crash-landing.  Nothing unusual to look at, not even anyone seriously injured.

Melony groaned for a moment, stirring, before going limp again in unconciousness.  The old captain looked at her, thinking for a moment that she was about to wake.  It would be awkward to explain why he felt like he needed to be responsible enough to personally see her awake, but he had had to explain more complicated situations in his time.  He harrumphed slightly under his breath, turning his attention back towards the bright sparks out of the aft windows.

Odd, they were bigger now...  like they were catching up...

Richson jumped off the bed, his feet skidding for a moment on the sterilization carpet as he went for the comm panel, his hand slamming onto it as he fell onto the wall off-balance.  "Bridge, emergancy evasive!  Incoming!"  His shout stopped all movement in sickbay, heads turning to him for a moment.  The shocked silence spurred Richson to another command.  His command voice and demeanor kicked in as he activated the restraint field for Melony's bed, and braced himself between her bed and the one beside it.  "Don't just stand there, brace for impact!"

The staff and patients started bracing themselves, a hurried flurry of activity, knowing the captain usually didn't say anything unless he was worried it was going to be a rough impact.  Richson just looked towards the now rapidly growing orbs coming up from behind in the river of cherinov particles streaming through the fields.  The sparking of torpedos made it pretty clear that the Salu was about to endure some very painful moments.

The deck jolted slightly, gravity shifting in that peculiar way as the ship slewed to port and downward, beginning an evasive  spiral to avoid the incoming ordinace.  Richson's stomach once again tried to tell him he was in free-fall, the slight thrill of a ship in rapid manuvers still buzzing the old captain's nerves even as he clenched his teeth in worry for his ship.  Thrill and extreme worry are strange bedfellows, even in space.

Melony groaned again, starting to come around at the worst possible time.  "Wha-  mom, why are you flipping the car upside down..."  Her incoherent mumbling, partially inspired from some past experience and nightmare, and from her more recent near-disaster, got a slight head-shake from Richson, right as the first torpedo streaked barely behind the starboard nacell pylon, detonating 20 miles off the starboard side.

The deck lifted up, tossing Richson into the wall, even as the ship rolled into the blast, going hard to starboard and trying to loose the remaining torpedos in the shockwaves from the first.  Richson rubbed his bruised head, even as the next two torpedos blew under the ship, the Salu rising high and the inertial dampeners glitching.

Captain Richson was used to the wild pitching and bucking of the deck in combat, but even he was not prepared for the multi-teraton blast that threw everything out of whack, throwing him up in the air to come crashing down onto the biobed beside Melony. He blinked the dark stars out of his eyes, as he looked to the aft windows to see the ship pulling as tight of a end-over-end flip as the helmsman could coax out of it, sailing right back past several of the torpedos, having 4 of the remainer detonate 200 miles back, before slamming to port.

The barrage of death compensated, arcing back around towards the Salu, even as the ship came around 270 degrees, flying at maximum warp for a few seconds, before yanking to starboard, the last of the 12 torpedos sailing clean past the Salu, smashing into each other, and blowing a massive halo of death in the skies. The shockwave buffeted the Salu for a few moments, the rattling of the superstructure rumbling through the deck, before everything went calm again.

Richson carefully tapped his feet back onto the deck, feeling for any sudden shaking of the ship, and also just to make sure in his semi-frazzled mind that the ship was even still there.  The attack had come somewhat randomly out of the blue, and ended just as suddenly.  If not for training the ship's helmsmen so vigourously to keep their wits about them in a situation like that, the Salu would likely be atoms and molecules spread across half a sector.

He followed through with the rest of his body, looking about to the rest of the crew, some of whom now sported cuts and freshly spreading bruises.  Richson felt the back of his head, feeling the lump there from the first impact, before thumbing the comm panel with his left thumb.  "Bridge,"  His voice was hoarse, from bruised ribs and a hurting chest, "cloak, and engage on a random course vector.  We don't need another of those."

"Sir...  I am your longest serving crewmember and ally, of course I know that.  We've already done so.  I know you far too well."  Davison's cheerfully mocking voice echoed back through the comm system, as the lights of the ship darkened slightly to cloaked status.  The aft stars looked the same,  but Richson couldn't tell.  "Is our... guest, doing alright?"

"Sir..."  Melony groaned out the word, getting a raised eyebrow from the venetrable old Richson, "Apart from being nearly killed again, and a splitting headache from all that rattling...  I'm pretty sure I'm doing fine.  My head keeps telling me that's not the case.  Wait, why can't I move?"  Melony twitched slightly, trying to get free of the restraining field, not knowing it was on.

Richson chuckled, getting a wince and a glare from the young vixen, before he shut down the restraining field.  "Silly young vixen," Richson tussled Melony's mane again, getting a slight growl from her. "Of course we're going to protect our prize investment and soon to be pupil.  Admittably, we cut it rather fine back there..."

"I am not a retirement fund!"

"So you think, Melony.  Old men can't keep going forever.  We may not die, but eventually we fade out." Richson calmly held a hand out to help Melony up, which she took. The young Vulpin vixen held a hand to her forehead, feeling woosy from a few factors, as Richson slid up onto the bed across from her. 

Davison piped in from up on the bridge one last time, "Well, at least she's okay, old Diess would kill me if I lost her coming-up favorite miracle worker."

"No such thing as miracles!"

Richson had a faint trace of a smile on his lips as he thought back to a moment almost 800 years before. "So you think.  You and me are both living examples to the contrary. The vulpin race doesn't have a homeworld, other than what it makes for itself, for a reason Melony.  We have no place that we can say: hey, look, right there is where we evolved, that's where we popped up at. You want to know why? Because if it were not for one moment, we would not exist, likely you would not be born, and the galaxy would be a far darker place than even now."  Richson's voice and speech went from slight triumph, to slowly becoming sorrowful and with remembrance of those who had worked hard to make sure that a species would survive.

"All those are just tales, we were made back in some lab on Earth by some guy with an unhealthy imagination and too much knowledge and time.  That's how we got started."  Melony didn't quite want to believe that some higher power had created the Vulpin race, that they had been made originally for some great purpose in the universe, other than to be some crazies' amusement.

"If that's what you want to think, kid.  So, considering that you now should have a slight grasp of just what I've meant by twisting fate, are you still so sure you want to learn?  After all, having things like the Citadel coming at you on a regular basis isn't exactly what I would call fun, but, if you are trained, well, you can handle anything."  Richson slowly built up into his speech, diverting away from the dark places the previous topic was going.  While he knew exactly what had happened to cause the Vulpin race, namely a bad incident with an old foe, Melony would be hard pressed to believe him yet. 

So, as he waited for her to respond, he shifted up a little further on the table, adjusting his position so he could wait a few hours for her own choice.  He had waited longer, and he suspected he already knew the answer, as Melony uncomfortably twitched and squirmed before him.  He had a pretty good idea of her thought processes, from a few dozen years of work.  You just couldn't be a captain for as long as he had been without being able to get into people's heads, figuratively and literally in his case.

Melony was indeed in a right stew over her choices.  If she did go back empty-handed, with only the bugging of the Citadel, big trouble would come down on her.  If she stayed her to train, similarly big trouble would pile on her over a diffrent matter.  Either way, she was in for a rough time when she got back, no matter how things went down.  Captian Diess had mentioned something about such a scenario, something called the Kobiashu Maru, or some such thing, supposedly a no-win scenario.

She finally groaned in annoyance, knowing she was good and well stuck in her choices.  She spoke softly, barely whispering in shame and regret about even thinking of coming along.  "Can I have a few hours by myself to decide?"

"Take your time.  Two roads stand before you, and I know, it's a pain in the ass to figure out which one takes you someplace nice.  I'm still trying to figure it out, if you wanted to know."  Richson hopped off the bed, his black and grey uniform rustling slightly as he moved, walking towards the door, never glancing back towards his charge.  He didn't like looking back.  It reminded him too much of all that he had lost.

Melony looked on after him, before looking down at her still suited body, at the scorches along the plates, and wondered once again, how in the heck did she get to places and times like she did.

Citadel, Main Bridge, 2100 FT

"Still no sign of wreckage at the blast site?"  Captain Piedion looked over multiple reports from the 500 ly away point in space where one of the biggest fireworks shows since the big bang had gone off.  He nibbled at the side of his bottom lip, peturbed by the idea that maybe, just maybe that dratted ship had escaped them again.  He thunked his head back into the back of the chair he had borrowed, turning back around to the auxilary science station at the back of the devestated bridge.

Dominatus looked over to him, wondering what was bothering the captain of his mighty ship.  Well, this time anyway.  His grim smile under his hood went unnoticed as he sat in the semi-thronelike chair at the center of the bridge.  Somehow, he suspected that something would always worry the captain of the Citadel.  It was too damm big not for something to crop up every moment. 

His black robes were still somewhat tattered from the blast, as were his nerves.  The last time he had encountered such an... inventive foe, had been back when Captain Richson was still no more than Commander Richson, so long ago.  So much hatred had been between them, even then...

The crisp sound of one of the more disciplined bridge officers reporting to Captain Piedion got him to glance back, seeing the Captain blanch as he looked over the data-pad he had been handed.  Whatever the news, it was not good.  Probably, knowing the foe, it meant that they had not been as successful as they had hoped.  Most likely, the report would say that the Salu had most likely escaped intact, with a warp trail fading out as the cloak restored itself.

Piedion looked at it again glumly, looked back to the ceiling, then closed his eyes, resolving his strength as he grimly lurched to his feet.  Gripping the pad tightly in his left hand, he slowly marched towards Dominatus' position, a hard glitter in his eye of determination to keep from running in terror and shame.  Dominatus watched as he slowly marched around so that he faced the central chair from the foreward section of the bridge, before snapping to a reporting position.

Dominatus slowly turned his chair from facing the port-side of the bridge, looking straight into his semi-protegee's eyes.  His voice was quiet as he spoke, the whole bridge silencing itself as they betted on how Piedion would die.  "The Kep Salu II escaped didn't it?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Was it damaged?"

"No, my lord.  From what little of the engine trails remained after the explosion, she was piloted by a madman who defied most starship handling and intergity rules for warp speeds.  The torpedoes...  were not adequate for the job.  Their targeting and manuvering systems were not enough to remain on the tail of the Salu.  This fiasco is my fault, and I apologize, my lord." Piedion slowly and quietly spoke, his gaze never waivering as he looked straight back into Lord Dominatus's eyes.  Every nerve tensed as he finished, continuing to return Dominatus' stare as he slowly leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"The Salu is no freighter, and it's captain is indeed a madman.  Those torpedoes were not designed by you, and they were meant for the long-range destruction of Alliance shipping.  You responded to the situation with what resources you had available to you, putting them to work in a manner far in excess of the effort that would be acceptable.  You helped identify the sensor ghost of the ship before it could attack, and were the one who had come up with the original premise of it's demise.  While the incident may be your fault, there is no need to apologize for perfoming to the utmost of your abilities.  No... we simply need to expand those abilities."  Dominatus's slow speech, quiet and deadly in rage towards his ancient rival.  But, he knew how to focus rage, he only executed fools, and while Piedion was inexperienced, a fool he was not.

The Captian blinked, uncertain how to take the speech.  The rest of the bridge crew was even more mystified, as almost every other individual in such a situation would have been fried or worse on the spot. Instead, Dominatus was sitting there, praising Piedion for failing?

"Um, my lord? So, you're saying that despite the fact that I failed completely miserably, you are not going to fry me, or...?"

"Young fool, you expect me to punish you for failing to match the wit and skill of the ever-annoying and damm near invincible Richson?  Heck, you should get praise for managing to even catch him by any surprise at all.  Promotion praise, fat chance."  Dominatus lightened up, pushing off his annoyance to one side, saving it for plotting later that evening.  He stood up, stepping down from his chair, and looking at Piedion for a moment, as if seeing... perhaps... something trainable.  "Now then, if anything else bothers the ship, vaporize it."

"Yes, my lord."  Piedion's snap-to still was marred by the slight eyebrow raise, as he wondered just how tough Richson was, if fighting him and loosing was as good as success in Dominatus's eyes...

Hooo, boy...  what kind of whoop-ass could Richson really have hidden?

USS Kep Salu II; Bridge; 2000 FT

Richson stepped back into the heart of his domain carefully, his eyes in a sort of danger mode flicking across the room looking for possible traps and disasters.  Nope, nothing this time, either.  Blinking lights blinking, the crew at their stations, Davison at the helm, his chair st-  wait a minute, Davison at the helm?

"I thought you said you hate flying?"  Richson asked it casually, wondering what might have changed Davison in the long, long time since he had last manned the bridge of the Salu.  He had never seen Davison doing any kind of flying, heck, the dark-skinned old coot avoided anything to do with flying, especially Richson's type of flying.

"Well, after about...  what was it, 20 years?  After that much time, I couldn't help but have just a bit of your talent rub off on me, though yes, I do still hate this crap.  Better than being blown clean into the next universe..." Davison tapped a few last controls, before rotating the chair for the helm console around on the swinging arm it was mounted on, to look Richson head on.  Memories stained his words, memories of bygone eras and long-lost scrapes in which he had frantically learned how to fly.  A whimsical old-age type joy grew in him, as he remembered the old bond that the two of them had shared.

"Bah, it wasn't that bad.  This empire though, this could be it.  A million ships after you all at once, unafraid to burn out their engines to catch you?  That's a pilot's nightmare.  A traffic jam in space, chasing after you."  Richson spoke of the so-called 'tactics' of the empire with a controlled disgust and a tired triumph.  He stepped down into the lower level, moving over to his chair and plopping down in in.

"Amen to that.  Thank god I put in that gun on the Metamor.  They've started calling it the BFSG 20000.  The equivilent of sending in one of those hover-trains in ahead of you in ground traffic.  and before you ask, yes, the world has come to an end, I've found a gun big enough to satisfy me."  Davison chuckled as he mused of the massive main guns of the Metamor.  He rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling, thinking over the two big times he had to use them.

The bridge crew just ignored the two's conversation, letting the two old-timers be.  Richson nodded to Davison, before looking up at the slow streaking of various particles in the warp-field. The bridge of the Salu was still so much like it was back in the good old days, when the two of them were  still serving on the same ship together.  Back when the crew was still together, before what happened in 2400...

When everything fell apart.  The team just isn't a team if half of it is missing.  The two thought the same thought, glumly remembering the panic and confusion of those moments, as all that was was lost...  They looked at each other, the grim memories sapping some more light out of the dark grey ceiling and paneling.

"We need a miracle right now..." Davison glumly said, plain-out admitting that the Alliance needed a hero to keep up the fight.  It needed a new Salu, a new super-team to take up where Richson and himself were slowly loosing.  His face was a study of worry, as he leaaned on one arm of the helm seat.

"She just needs a day or so.  She's got a slight quest for power, a desire that could use a little slacking, but at the same time, we can convince her to help out.  She has the potential to become a far greater leader than I was.  The problem is, can we steer her down her path, without resetting the cycle we've started?" Richson talked quietly, knowing that he rode the knife's edge. He might make her too much like... him, or he might not give her enough to make a diffrence.

"Set me down what path?  I choose my own."  Melony's questioning and confident tone of voice, calling out from in back at the lifts, got the attention of the two old-timers.  Still in her flight suit, she looked... rather imposing, for such a small vixen teen.  She had taken a few hours to decide, but, as so many other people, in so many other situations had chosen, she had decided at last to take the day for her own.

"So, I take it that the way you're arrayed means you are ready to face the challenges that await you? Are you ready to face fears beyond that which you have ever known before, are you ready to strike for the Alliance, in a likely thankless job in which you put your life on the line?" Richson layered it on, just plain out saying the truth as he watched her for any sign she might waver.  And, she just stared him back in the face, her resolute determination to handle the trouble that faced her, even though she did waver at the life on the line part. Ah, well, can't be completely successful.

"Sirs, I have just one thing to say.  Whatever you have coming for me, after facing down that menace, who nearly killed me for the second time in a row, bring it on."

"Now that, is what I like to hear.  Now, we're cracking." Davison's smile streched wide, a perking up in his tone heard as he looked up over his still mentor and friend.

CSS Long Shot; Captain's Ready Room; 1400 FT Feb 28

The clips played again, of Melony warping away as the two prototypes exploded, of her blowing the bridge out on the Citadel, of the myrad smaller things inbetween, before cutting out.  Captain Diess slowly turned from the small screen on her wall back to Melony's father, who was looking mostly furious, with a hint of desperation.

"You must do something, she can't be allowed to put herself in danger like this!" He kept his voice down, but remained agitated even as he started trying to calm himself without being told by the irratable captain.

Roberton and Andre looked on from at the doorway to the bridge, watching the exchange back and forth between the Captain and the father.  They looked over to Diess, who had a slight scowl on her face now.

"And what do you suggest I do?  The galaxy is too big for one ship to search for one person.  The Alliance can hide quite well, need I remind you?  One or two people is far easier to hide than a few million.  She could be anywhere, and, even if I could get her to follow orders, from what she's already said, she's given her word to stay for a month.  Give her a month, and let us see where things stand."  Diess tried not to clench her fists on the metal finish of the desk, various knick-knacks of the worlds she had visited around her.

"You are saying that not even Admiral Davison could order her back?  That's perposterous! She is just a young girl, she doesn't know what she is being swindled into!"  The vulpin's voice was a growl now, anger growing once again as he bristled.

"No, he can't.  He signed off on this idea to begin with, from what I understand.  And, there are people who even Admiral Davison, the mighty steel spined, will bend to like silly putty." Andre stepped up now, an annoyed tone in his already normally dark voice. His stiff back and squared shoulders put a bit of physicality into his threat, as he moved forward. 

"But!"

"No, as much as I would say that I could because I'm obligated as her captain to protect her, I cannot because of the fact that I have orders not to, and the lack of ability to actually contact her.  I cannot help you."  Diess kept herself calm, looking at the fellow vulpin with icy daggers of eyes, as she sat back in her chair.

"I want my daughter back."  He stood up, and left, without another word.  As the doors shut behind him, all of them sighed and relaxed, slumping down from their stiffened positions.  Andre leaned onto the shelf near the door as Roberton sat down on the couch next to the model of the Long Shot. 

"That could have been better."  Roberton lounged slightly, streching out as he looked at his captain.

"He'll be back." Andre's wary comment followed suit, as he too looked her way.

"Just fine.  Everything is about to change."  Akalia picked up the hilt of the old staff from Richson, a small grin on her face as some far-off awakened source of power touched it, the tips of the sheathed blades ever so slightly glowing...

Captain's Log, Feburary 28, 3255

"Something has happened. I think that it has something to do with Richson and Melony.  His old staff is starting to act up again, in a way that it normally would never have, even with his rather large power.  I think, I'm not sure, but...  Melony may indeed be the balance tipper we have so long sought, even when we could fight together, before we were seperated.  I think he may have found his successor, and that maybe, just maybe we might be able to win this.  He was fond of quoting old movies, and one in particular.  Well, there is a quote for this moment.  'There is a disturbance in the Force.'  Yes, I know, we never did use that so-called force, but... something powerful this way comes..."

TBC. . . ...