Mysterious Tidings

Part 1 of the Theia, the Lost Star series

Quinn Kahlberg sat in his stateroom, reviewing the contract options for his crew. He was only thirty-six years old, but constant worry had drawn early lines in his forehead and around his eyes. His black hair showed signs of graying. He cycled through the meagre choice of job offers for a third time and wondered how much longer he could make this arrangement work. The contracts were supposedly the best of the job offers available for the Stardiver and her crew; escort some sleazy politician through the shady districts of Capitol Center, secure safe transport for a supply convoy bound for 10 Hygiea in the asteroid belt, or use an ESPer to influence a rival trade fleet to lower their prices. Kahlberg frowned and closed the display on the trade-ESPer contract.

That's not even how it works. He thought, taking off his glasses. His tired eyes ached and he could feel a familiar tension creeping around his temples. He reached for his coffee mug, but found it already empty. The Earth Airspace Protectorate decreed that a large standing fleet was too much power for one organization to have. Because of this, when its vessels were not needed, the EAP merely kept their forces on retainer with a small stipend and left them to fend for themselves. When they were needed, the EAP would contact the captains and brief them for the new task.

During these frequent downtimes, finding jobs worth the risk to his people was not an easy task, and contract options were not particularly reliable. Kahlberg still hoped to land a long term contract with one of the big corporations in the exploration, protection, or supply sectors, but in this post-war economy, it was not a seller's market.

He took a vial of eye drops from the his desk drawer and stood up. He leaned his head back. One drop, then another. The stinging receded enough for him to think once more. He stared out the large window to the stars. It wasn't worth the fuel to head anywhere yet, so the Stardiver idled in orbit around Venus, the site of their last job. After several long moments, he turned to the empty wall at the far end of his stateroom.

"Valkyrie, Lights down." He said.

The lights dimmed.

"Open feed: Main Belt."

A large ring of asteroids appeared on the wall.

"Zoom in. 10 Hygiea."

The image swept downwards to focus on a large planetoid. The metallic chunk stood out among the smaller pieces of debris. It was right in the middle of the Belt, deep into pirate territory. The convoy would be irresistible to the Hornets. No doubt the pay would be good, but Kahlberg wondered if the Stardiver could fend off a pirate attack by herself. True to their name, the Hornet Cartel were small pests, but attacked in swarms. This contract showed promise if he could get another EAP vessel to team up with them.

"Close feed. Open feed: Capitol Center."

The map changed to a massive space station. Its design looked similar to a gyroscope, with several large metallic halos spinning rhythmically around it.

Valkyrie interrupted his thoughts, "Captain, visitor. Lieutenant Farian Courtland."

"Come in." he said, and the door slid open.

"Hope you weren't trying to squeeze in another cat nap." said Courtland, a handsome man in his late twenties with a clean shave and a tight haircut. The doors slid closed behind him after he stepped inside. Courtland's uniform was starched, freshly ironed, and spotless. All the brass was polished. The perfect rows of service ribbons on his jacket could have been used as the EAP standard for uniform protocol. He was holding a plastic tray with a covered plate and a mug on it.

"We missed you at dinnertime." he added, setting the tray down on the captain's desk.

"Much obliged, Lieutenant." He approached the desk, interested to see what Courtland had brought him. He felt instant gratitude upon seeing the fresh mug of black coffee. He reached for the lid of the plate, hoping to uncover one of Roth's expert homestyle meals and not standard rations.

"Chicken and rice tonight, sir. I know how much you like it." Courtland leaned forward to get a look inside the old coffee mug. "Yep. Thought so." He shook his head with mock severity while collecting the captain's empty mug.

Kahlberg lifted the cover and took in the smell, "A little piece of home. Thank you." He replaced the cover and nodded at the feed on the wall, "Capitol Center is a shithole. That convoy might pay off, though. If these three ops were the best of the bunch, I'd hate to see what didn't make the cut."

"Sorry sir, comms have been quiet lately," said Farian, "I thought the ESPer one would be good for a laugh though. Imagine Aleah's reaction to being asked to mind-control somebody."

Kahlberg grinned and took a seat behind the desk, "It was a nice touch, though I'd be more inclined to laugh if we got good news once in a while."

"That's what I came here to talk about," Farian said, approaching the desk. "I wanted to show you this. Just came down from Command." He motioned at the wall, "May I?"

Kahlberg nodded and sat back in his chair.

"Val, close feed. Open file: Typhon-Harpy-09." The large space station faded away and was replaced by standard view of the Solar System. "Our friends at Project Typhon asked the EAP to send us specifically."

"Excuse me?" Kahlberg's stomach dropped.

"Yeah. They were light on details too." The feed focused in on the outer reaches of the system and froze on the image of a glowing sphere roughly two-thirds the size of Earth. "This is all they had for us. Said they would go over the rest in person. Guess they don't trust the EAPs secure lines."

Kahlberg used the manual controls at his desk to rotate, zoom, and examine the object. Nothing on the feed gave it any features similar to anything he had seen before. It looked like a dark, smoldering marble on the edge of dark space. "Of course they don't. Where to, then?"

Farian approached the window and stared out, "Mars. I heard Typhon finished their research facility in the Malisa region earlier this year."

"I still can't believe the spacers cut a deal with them, after everything that happened." Kahlberg shook his head. "I'm gonna see what the Old Man knows about all of this. Do you need anything else from me for the next twenty minutes or so?"

"That's it for now, sir. We'll await you on the bridge." Courtland saluted.

"Thank you again for dinner, Lieutennant, you're excused." Kahlberg said, returning the salute.

Courtland nodded, then headed to the door and stopped for a moment. "Try not to pull your hair out over it, sir. The gray looks distinguished, but I doubt you can pull off the bald look." He stepped outside the door and added a quick, "With all due respect, of course." as it slid shut behind him.

Kahlberg grabbed his dress uniform from the closet and entered the adjoining bathroom. After he splashed some water on his face, he changed into his proper officer's attire. In his mind, he began to rehearse what he would say on the subject of working with Typhon. He sat down at his desk and took a moment to tidy up the files and papers strewn across it. He set the dinner plate on the floor next to the desk, out of view of the video feed. "Valkyrie, lights up."

The lights brightened.

He took a deep breath, held it, then said "Valkyrie, open comm channel."

"Communications channel open, Captain. Proceed with designation." Valkyrie said.

"Captain Quinn Kahlberg on board EAP Destroyer Class Vessel 0109 - Stardiver hailing Rear Admiral Roland Kuselmann on board EAP Battleship Class Vessel 1124 - Excalibur."

A blank feed projected onto the empty wall once more.

"Patching in progress. Please stand by. . ." Valkyrie chimed.

"Patching in progress. Please stand by. . ." Kahlberg took a sip of coffee.

"Patching in progress. Ple-"

Valkyrie was interrupted by a gruff voice over the comms. "Kuselmann here."

The blank feed cut to the admiral's office. Photographs from all over Earth decorated the space. An old dress saber hung from a hook on the wall, and even though it looked brand new, Kahlberg knew it had been awarded to Kuselmann at least twenty years ago. A heavy wooden desk, covered in assorted curiosities stood in the middle of the room. Among the clutter was an antique camera and a reading lamp. The admiral sat with an open file in hand. He was an older man, mostly bald, but still in fighting shape despite his years. The combination of thick-rimmed glasses and his white mustache gave him a grandfatherly look.

Kahlberg stood and saluted. "Sir, it's about Project Typhon."

Kuselmann returned the salute. "Kahlberg, I am well aware of your disdain for Typhon. However, the war ended years ago and I want this... anomaly out there investigated by somebody I trust. If Typhon gets something out of it along the way, then so be it. I'm not asking you to bury the hatchet, Captain, I'm just asking you to put down the whetstone."

"Understood, sir." Kahlberg sat back down. "However, I'm concerned about their motives. Most of my crew were part of the Spacer Conflict and I don't want to take them into this blind."

Kuselmann closed the file and set it down. "To be frank, they didn't tell me anything either. All I know is that they will tell you everything once you arrive on-site at Malisa Research Facility on Mars. The kind of people that invest into ideas like Project Typhon appreciate discretion, and with the recent datajacks hitting the EAP, I can't say I blame them for being tight-lipped about this one."

The news hit Kahlberg like a punch in the gut. "Datajacks? Why haven't I heard anything about this?"

"Don't take it personally, Captain. We've got red tape all over this one, trying to keep anybody from hearing about it. The last thing we need is some bluejacket writing home to girlfriend and mentioning the jacks. Then before you know it, it's in the media.

Kahlberg had several questions in mind for the admiral, but the Excalibur's Valkyrie cut their conversation short.

"Admiral, visitor. Commander William Hanson." the voice chimed.

The admiral turned to the side. "One moment." He said toward the door. Turning back to the feed, he addressed Kahlberg again. "Meet with Typhon. See what more they know, then patch me back. Stay safe, Captain, talk to you tomorrow. Valkyrie, close comm channel."

"Stay safe, Admiral." Kahlberg said back, just before the feed closed.

Kahlberg changed back into his standard blue coverall and retrieved his dinner plate from the floor. The food was excellent and still warm. He took his time with each bite, as this would likely be the longest break he would have tonight.