Surveyor’s personal log: Jan 31, 2061 (4149.212 Synac)

Space: the Final Frontier, and all that rot. Looks like a lot of vacuum and a few shiny bits to me. Or maybe I’ve been on a few too many quick survey missions. Never enough time to truly appreciate the natural beauty of each system and planet surveyed. I think I’ll take a nice, long vacation after this run. Spend some time on Synac, and then visit Mom and Dad on Earth. I always find myself fascinated by the differences and similarities between the two worlds my adopted parents came from.

Be that as it may, I currently find myself, once again aboard Lesien, on our way to take a quick jaunt through yet another unexplored system. (Mdc-21223, if anyone cares.) Deep-space probes hinted at the possibility of life bearing worlds in this system, hence my presence. Mid-range yellow star, eight planets, sizable asteroid field. Looks like some decent mining, if nothing else. Will transition to normal space in about four hours. Expecting to spend the remainder of my time in 4thSpace engaged in semi-deep philosophical conversations with Lesien and other similar wastes of time, talent and SDF resources.

Surveyor Darien Loruun ooo

Survey Command, Synac Defense Force

The dark-furred Trephyn turned away from the desktop terminal, still strumming the guitar in his lap. "Lesien," he called out to the otherwise empty survey ship, "Time to Transition?"

The deep, resonant voice seemed to reply from nowhere.

"Three hours, fifteen minutes. Are you that bored already?"

Darien laughed sharply, his fingers plucking out a somber, minor chord on the instrument. "Already? Ha. We’ve been clawing our way through four-dimensional space at a velocity that I’m still not convinced has any real mathematical value for nearly two standard weeks!"

"And in that time, you have generally kept yourself occupied. I have noticed this before; it is only in the final hours before transition that you become…unsettled."

"You mean nervous." Darien sighed, setting the guitar aside and running his fingers through the fur on his head. "I’m just looking forward to the vacation I want to take after we root through this system and see what we can dig up."

"Where are you planning to go?"

"Synac, first. My training pack’s having a Gathering in Tyralaen around the end of the cycle. Then I want to go visit Mom and Dad on Earth," Darien replied, staring into space as he imagined himself on a real planet for what seemed the first time in cycles, breathing real air and talking with live, sentient beings. Lesien’s AI wasn’t bad company, but despite his log entry, conversation with the ship wasn’t exactly stimulating, most of the time.

"Representatives Geheran and Sheral will be pleased to see you."

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to seeing my grandparents, too." Darien sighed again and stretched, grateful to the creators of the Loturen-class survey ships for designing a cabin that permitted him to do so. He started for the hatch, pausing briefly to check his appearance in the small mirror. He was, by most standards, a rather handsome Trephyn male, just under 1.8 meters in height, with jet-black fur over most of his body. He smoothed out the fur that he had ruffled a moment ago, and examined the large stripe that ran from just above his brow as a point, widening at the back of his head and down his back, then running back up his chest and neck to another point just below his chin. "I don’t care what they say, I like it," he murmured to himself.

"Is the stripe natural, or dyed in?"

Darien blinked, a bit surprised at the computer’s inquisitiveness. "Natural. I’ve had it as long as I can remember. I was most likely born with it."

"Then it is not logical for someone to make negative remarks toward it. As I understand, it is not a common pattern for Trephyn fur coloring, but it does not detract from your ability to function in society."

"No Trephyn has ever given me grief about it, actually. The only teasing I got over it was during the times I spent as a youth on Earth. Several humans said I looked like a skunk."

"Insufficient Data. Query: Subject ‘skunk’?"

"An animal native to Earth," Darien told the computer. "Fur coloring similar to mine. Quadruped, fires a stream of highly malodorous fluid from its rear as a defense against predators."

"Ahh. Humans consider these creatures distasteful?"

"Yes," Darien replied. "But I’ve gotten over that. Now on to important things: Bring up the standard pre-Transition checklists, and run a diagnostic on the ECM/ECCM suite and defensive systems. This area’s supposed to be uninhabited neutral space, but it’s a little too close to Klizul and Saardi territory for my complete comfort." With that, Darien slid through the hatch and down the short hallway to the craft’s cockpit.

The Loturen class surveyor's craft was the most recent design created by SpaceFlight Systems, the primary designer for civilian and SDF spacecraft in the Synacian Alliance. The ship was initially modeled after the century-old workhorse of the Synac Defense Forces, the Shannat-class transport. Where the Shannat was primarily designed to carry cargo and passengers, however, the Loturen was created for the sole purpose of deep-space exploration. The newer ship was not nearly so large as the older transport, and its cabin space was designed around an optimal crew of two. Much of the rest of the ship’s bulk was devoted to its advanced sensors package, propulsion, life support and defensive systems. The Loturen was by no means a combat ship, but it was adequately equipped to defend itself if someone decided they didn’t want a Surveyor nosing around in his back yard. Loturen ships were also equipped with advanced stealth systems, and there were very, very few ships in known space that could detect a Loturen with its ECM and Stealth gear in full cry. The eight semi-autonomous FTL-capable remote probes a Loturen carried also boasted these systems.

All this equipment might have proven too much for one or even two Trephi to manage alone, but SpaceFlight Systems also included in the Loturen design a semi-sentient A.I. computer core. This artificial intelligence was not as advanced as the synthetic minds built into the Draken class of starfighter, but was more than capable of managing a Surveyor ship’s critical and auxiliary systems, maintaining them when necessary, and even taking control of the entire ship in a dire emergency. A Loturen’s AI was also capable of learning, and often had to undergo memory erasures when the ship was reassigned to a new pilot. A Surveyor crew and their ship were a team, much like a K-9 police officer and his dog.

Darien and Lesien ran through the systems status checks with the quick efficiency of experience, and Darien sat back in the pilot’s seat with a grin. "All systems show ready," he said, more out of habit than anything else, and sat back to wait out the rest of the trip to the target star system.

Standard reentry procedure for SDF spacecraft required a ship to enter normal space at approximately 94 million miles out from the system primary, at a right angle to the system’s plane of planetary rotation. By entering in this fashion, the pilot minimized the risk of colliding with the various detritus a spacefaring society tended to leave lying around: shipyards, satellites, orbital living habitats and other such space junk. Only once in recent memory had an SDF pilot violated this procedure, some thirty-four Earth years prior, and the resulting accident changed forever the nature of interstellar politics in this region of space…but that is another story.

The fabric of space-time buckled and heaved for a split second, and from this tear a small starship was thrown, its superconductive hull shedding the energies of hyperspace as a duck sheds water from its feathers. "Transition complete," the ship's computer reported to the sole living crewmember.

"Very good, Lesien," Darien replied habitually. "Initiate Stealth mode and begin sensor scans."

"ECM Online. ECCM online. Initiating passive sensors…reading."

Darien relaxed in his seat, waiting for the first lengthy sensor scans to be completed. He sat bolt upright in surprise and shock, however, at Lesien’s next report: "Detection at four light-minutes. Identity: Saardi S’Sris’ith-class corvette. Detection at five light-minutes. Identity: Saardi T’seth-class escort carrier. Detection at five light minutes. Identity: Klizul Tol Ravek fast courier…Contact lost; courier has completed Transition. Detection in planetary orbit: industrial facility of unknown make. Possibly shipyards. Detection…"

"Oh, shit!" Darien exclaimed, too shocked for a moment to do anything but stare in horror at the readout. He recovered quickly, however. "Were we detected?"

"Insufficient data, however, a second escort carrier is on a near approach vector. Distance: ninety thousand kassat. It may have been on that course when we made Transition."

"Bloody hell, that thing’s nearly in our lap. Can you analyze its drive emissions to see if it changed course recently?"

"Not without active sensors across the ship’s current position, which would likely compromise our stealth field."

"Okay, let’s play it quiet for now. Inertia’s got us moving at a good clip, and a gravitonic drive doesn’t leave a trail. Let’s just play it nice and quiet and hope they didn’t see us." Darien sighed softly, and turned to a side console. "How good are a T’Seth’s sensors?"

"Normally insufficient to detect us; however I am reading abnormally high power curves from the approaching ship."

"Great. They’ve had an upgrade. Stand by to drop probes and get us the hells out of here…"

"Detection at eighty-five thousand Kassat," interrupted Lesien urgently. "The escort carrier is launching fighters. Two wings, six craft total, closing fast on our position."

Darien swore, wrenching the ship’s controls to reverse their course as quickly as possible. "Plot us a course to the nearest SDF outpost and ready probes one and two, full stealth, record and escape." The probes would drift slowly through the system, passive sensors recording anything they could see, and then leave, transmitting a report to the launching craft or any nearby SDF station or starship on arrival. Unfortunately, the Saardi had other ideas.

"Gravitonic anomaly detected, bearing 180. Gravitonic anomaly detected, bearing 270. System’s gravity threshold now eighteen light-minutes from system primary. We cannot initiate transition."

"I shoulda stood in bed," Darien lamented. "What’s the source of this extra gravity?"

"Two near point sources, approximately two hundred fifty thousand Kassat. They appear to be gravity well generators, designed to keep FTL-capable craft in normal space."

"Booby trap. They knew we were here the minute we made Transition, probably why that Klizul courier left as quickly as it did." Darien sighed, rubbing his temples with one hand as he steered the ship with the other. "How soon will those fighters enter weapons range?"

His question was answered not by the ship’s computer, but by the brilliant green flash of the lead fighter’s energy weapons as the beams flashed past the cockpit window.

"First wing now in weapons range."

"No shit," Darien replied sourly, throwing the surveyor’s craft into a series of wild evasions. "Weapons hot."

"Primary plasma cannon array online. Secondary beam turret online."

"Deploy countermeasures."

Several small metallic orbs jettisoned themselves from a recess in Lesien’s hull. These decoys, each projecting an exact sensor duplicate of Lesien, sped away in all different directions, with the intent of fooling the fighter’s sensors, and their pilots, into picking the wrong target. It worked; the formation of fighters broke into a three-pointed star as each fighter in the group sought to bring glory onto himself by destroying the intruders single-handedly. Darien, showing the incredible agility of the Loturen-class ship, swung the craft around and, catching the Saardi pilots off guard, quickly reduced the arrowhead-shaped starfighters to glowing embers. The second trio of fighters quickly opted for the better part of valor, and headed back towards their base ship at full speed.

"That’ll teach ya to get cocky, ya scaly bastards," Darien snarled. "How many fighters does a T’Seth carry?"

"Typically, a T’Seth on picket duty will carry eight T’sarath interceptors, which those were. Normal Saardi tactics are to launch all fighters upon hostile detection, however."

"Meaning we may have seen all they have."

"Correct. However, a T’seth’s point-defense batteries are more than capable of overwhelming my shields, and the ship is closing."

"Damn. There’s no way to Transit before they close?"

"Negative. We have at best eight minutes before the T’Seth closes to weapons range, and we are ten hours from the edge of the gravity well."

"Damn." Darien buried his head in his hands, wishing for a way to fight back…then he found one. "Can you modify the probes?"

"In what way?"

"Disable the throttle governors on the sublight drives."

"Yes, but this would reduce the lifespan of the probe’s engine to less than a standard minute."

"And in that minute, to what speed could an ungoverned probe accelerate?"

"A maximum velocity of .972 C is theoretically possible. Realistically, I would say no more than .75 C, optimal."

"Are the gravity well generators shielded?"

"Not that I can determine."

Darien sat up, grinning wickedly and rubbing his hands in anticipation. "Ready the second spread of countermeasures and disable the governors on three probes. Set the guidance systems on those probes to collision courses with the gravity well generators and that T’Seth. Set two unaltered probes to conduct a passive-sensor survey of the system; I want to know what the Saardi and the Klizul are hiding. Set a third unaltered probe to wait near the edge of the system as a relay for encrypted reports from the other two. Set all probes to full stealth, and time their launch with that of the countermeasures."

"This will take approximately five minutes to prepare."

"Launch when ready."

"Acknowledged. Will the probes not be detected, as we were?"

"I don’t think so," Darien replied thoughtfully. "Transition into a system leaves a noticeable energy footprint; that, I think, is how they knew where to look for us. If the probes go evasive at the same time as the countermeasures, the decoys will – I hope – attract everyone’s attention."

"Understood."

The next five minutes were the longest in Darien’s life. The fact that they were hopelessly out of range didn’t stop the escort carrier’s gunners from trying for a lucky hit, and Darien’s reflexes and Lesien’s shielding were all that saved them from annihilation. Finally, Lesien reported the probes ready, and launched the decoys and their improvised missiles.

The decoys, once again, functioned as advertised, drawing the overeager Saardi gunners’ fire away from Lesien itself. Then, the suicidal probes found their targets. The carrier was first to die, impacted almost directly along its centerline. The ship had boasted fairly impressive shields for something its size, but Lesien’s probe struck at a relative velocity of just over seventy percent of lightspeed. It was highly unlikely the crew even knew what happened.

The sphere of blazing destruction was soon joined by two others, as the second and third probes found the artificial gravity generators that had turned the star system into a death trap. Darien, watching on Lesien’s sensor board, let out a war howl the likes of which had not been heard since the dark days of Synac’s tumultuous Unification Wars. "Ha! Gotcha! Lesien, get us the Hells out of here!"

"Initiating Transition," the computer replied with what almost sounded like genuine, heartfelt relief.

The East Watch monitor turned from his sensor station, bowing low and resting his thick tail on the deck in the Saardi gesture of submission and apology. "The intruder has escaped, Warlord," the reptilian officer reported to his commander.

Fleet Admiral Warlord Jath T’Vhekk hissed his annoyance, his claws digging into the deck. The thick-bodied saurian turned from the observation window on the bridge of his flagship and paced towards the sensor stations. "How could this be?"

"I do not know, Warlord," the younger Saard replied. "The intruder somehow destroyed two of the Constrainment Field generators. Without them, there is no trap."

The Warlord glanced back out the window with a grunt, then gazed down at his officer. "Rise, K’Srithh. The alien’s resourcefulness brings you no dishonor. Do we know where it came from?"

K’Srithh, glad to be spared his Warlord’s wrath, jumped to his feet and returned to his instruments. "Final transmissions from the Escort Carrier War Arrow seem to indicate that the intruder is of Synacian origin, but it is a class of ship new to us," replied the young sensor operator.

T’Vhekk sighed deeply. "A Trephyn explorer. No doubt it knows, or soon will know, what we do here." The Warlord rubbed his forehead as if trying to massage away a headache. "Our beloved Empress has signed our death writs, aligning our people with these egg-sucking Klizul. We are now damned to war we cannot hope to survive," the scaled Warlord hissed, returning his attention to the velvety blackness of the void.

Darien felt numb inside, as if every fiber of his being had turned to cold stone. Three days after their escape from the supposedly empty star system, the probes began transmitting their findings.

Lesien had been right about the presence of orbital shipyards around the third and fourth planets of the system. The spaceborne factories evidently existed only for the production of warships ranging in size from Escort Carriers and Corvettes like the ones they’d just escaped, to destroyers, cruisers and battleships. But this was far from the worst news.

The planets below, which had once teemed with life, were now barely inhabitable. The worlds had been stripped bare of anything that could be made into raw materials for the ravenous facilities in orbit above.

The most horrible information of all had come from a probe that had strayed below the layer of sulphurous cloud that surrounded the third planet, and gotten a direct look at one of the strip mines.

"My Gods, they’re using slave labor." Darien still didn’t want to believe it, but there it was on his monitor in clear, undeniable, nightmare-inducing detail. Saardi, Tahrahk, Diameshki, Vermalion, Trephi, Humans and at least a dozen other races unknown to the Alliance, reduced to the lowest possible state imaginable. Darien rubbed his face with his hands, his tears long since gone. "Lesien," he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, "How far are we from the nearest Alliance unit?"

The SDF Sal-Neth and the U.S.S. New York are on maneuvers in the Nadiera system. If we change course now, we will be able to rendezvous with them in half a day."

"Change course," Darien whispered, "and prepare the report for transmission to SDF Headquarters on Synac, Priority Ultraviolet."

"Understood," the computer replied in as soothing a tone as it could manage. "What do you believe will come of this news?"

Darien stared out the window into the swirling energy-tides of hyperspace and sighed. "War."