Distraction, Part 3
Owl cluster, Olympus system
Connie Aren never liked accounting work, but sometimes you don’t have a choice. Sometimes digging through stacks of electronic paper is just necessary. Especially when it comes to the need for bonus payments to employees rather than managers. Especially if, in case of “insufficient enthusiasm” in the fulfillment of important tasks for the Federation, there is a chance to lose one’s own bonus. Tired after overseeing ten operations, one of which ended in failure, she hoped to end her paperwork soon. Shortly before this sweet moment, Connie Aren received a message on her communicator over the long distance network:
“Hello!
There’s a job. For those who are not too talkative and loyal to the Federation. The objective is to fly to a certain station and enter the required code. I don’t recommend showing it to anyone. The deposit is five hundred thousand credits. The reward is the opportunity to persuade the hospital to stop extracting money from you and treat your sister. I also know that you will decide that this is a deception or a provocation by the Empire. That’s why I’m giving you a password. Use it to access the Federation network. I’m sure you will understand the significance of your task. If you choose to accept it, enter the password. You will receive your deposit immediately. You have one week.
Sincerely, friend of the Federation.”
There was a network password attached to the letter, as well as an unknown destination code with the coordinate of the location where it should be entered. It was the system located at the very edge of the Eternal Vanguard.
Connie Aren finished the paperwork and then headed home, having previously had a drink at the bar. There she entered the password and looked through the materials that opened upon request. Knowing her character, there was no one willing to peek in her comm. She didn’t like what she saw. The Alliance had a plan to sacrifice the worlds of Eridan without defending them in order to keep the Armada ready to stab the Empire in the back in the face of the Invasion. When the calculations of crystallid routes were updated, it turned out that there was no way to stop them “later on”. The Vanguard had to block a noticeable part of the bleeding wound themselves. If only they had been warned about the upcoming attack...
Twenty Forerunner artifacts were connected into a network that could disrupt the flow of time in the entire sector. Some of them were powered separately from the main energy source. Therefore, they could be independently disabled. The access code from the letter controlled one of the devices that created the Eternal Vanguard.
Some of the people intimately acquainted with her had observed the slightly more agitated demeanour of the captain of the Expeditionary Fleet on that day and the two following days, but had not given it much thought. And they certainly didn’t know that she’d hardly slept these days, and was calculating the potential danger of unfreezing a part of the Eternal Vanguard. The verdict was simple: there are no aliens in these sectors, but there are parts of the Vanguard stuck in time. Her employer clearly knew about this. He also knew that she had access to the required system, and even supervised the patrol operation carried out there.
Finally, her official day off arrived. Connie Aren walked through the bars of “New Eden”, punched one lawbreaker in the face, and then boarded an interceptor, setting off to “fly”. She checked the milestones of several tasks performed by her subordinates, including those performed in the CBA-19 system. A grim place — half the system is frozen in time, trapped in the black and blue wall of a place called the Eternal Vanguard. A huge prison where people have encased themselves just to hold off the Invasion.
Without knowing the coordinates, finding the right station would be impossible. She was very close to the wall. From here, the Eternal Vanguard looked especially ominous. As soon as Connie Aren came out of warp close to the target, the station’s automatic defence algorithms activated, turrets immediately opened fire on the ship, and the engines were restrained by the engine suppressor.
Unlike many commanders of the forty-seventh century, Connie Aren achieved her rank in combat. First with the Cartel, then with the Aliens. You can get past even modern turrets alive if you know their algorithms. The shields withstood the first couple of hits, and after that the hull began to slowly turn into a sieve. When the interceptor entered the dead zone of the turrets, it was frightening to look at: the right side weapon had melted from a hit, cracks and holes covered the sides of the ship. Using a repair kit, Connie Aren dropped the ship's excess heat and patched up key nodes. The repair bill was going to be huge, but there were more important things right now.
In safety, Connie Aren was finally able to use the intercom with the station and shut down the turrets for a couple of hours. After docking, the station released nanodrones that began to slowly heal the damage done to the ship, and Connie Aren went to the console and entered the code. For the first minute nothing happened, and the captain even thought that this whole idea didn’t work. At this moment, the Signal intensified several times. The station plunged into darkness, and Connie Aren’s head started to feel heavy. Struggling to stay on the floor, the captain trudged toward her ship. Slowly the station’s power supply was being restored: first the gravity generator came on, then the lights. The emergency communications system has been activated.
Connie Aren received multiple SOS signals from her ship.
- SOS! There are wounded! Evacuation required!
- We were hit by the Aliens, I repeat, we were hit by the Aliens!
- Pirates..
- Pirates have been spotted in the sector! They are attacking a cargo ship.
Connie Aren knew what to do. Turning on the link with the control station, she said into the general channel:
“This is the captain of the Federation Expeditionary Fleet. Stay calm, you will all get the help you need. Gather at the evacuation point, or transmit your location via the attached frequency.”
After sending the messages and directing the first wave of evacuees to a support site in the system, Connie Aren switched the FTL transmitter to the Vanguard’s frequency and requested communication with the surviving military personnel.
This is senior lieutenant Anton Dregner speaking. Requesting evacuation. I’m sending you the coordinates. The life support system will last for another ten minutes.
-I read you. I’m going to pick you up. Hold on. Do you have anything else that’s important?
-I do. I’d kill the bastard who unfroze us.
Connie Aren emerged from the warp only thirty kilometers from the wreckage of the lieutenant’s ship. And then the interceptor was covered by a wave of the Signal. The electronics on the ship survived, but the shield generator was out of commission.
I’m in position. Can you clarify which compartment of the ship you are in?
Through a heavy cough, Dregner replied: “On the remains of the bridge. I’ll shine a flashlight.”
Connie Aren didn’t immediately see the dim light, but, fortunately for Dregner, she managed to pick him up. They quickly left this inhospitable place. Having caught his breath, Dregner started to speak:
“You need to request communication with the Alliance. I have the necessary authority. The Precursor transmitter is on. The machines will return. We didn't stop them. Another war is coming.”
Connie Aren hoped that not all of these predictions would come true. And how could she have known how important this distraction, in which she was a pawn, was in the game of those who determine the fate of the Galaxy?