“Listen, I understand the importance of this conference call, but now really isn't a good time.”

  Here I am, trapped in my bridge, with five of my bosses bearing down on me through the view screens. Tristeriol is here, of course, along with a representative for the other four Greater races. Despite all the far more important things I need to do today this is the most important in their eyes.

  “Expeditionary Captain Tom, it is the opinion of this council that there is nothing that could possibly be more dire than what we have to discuss at this very moment.”

  I take a second to stare outside at the crowds of people lining up for the medical deck. The line spans all the way outside the ship. Most of them weren’t even affected by the terrorist attack. They just heard we were offering free medical care. You know Cold and Flu meds cost 60 credits here?

  “Fine. Just please make this quick. What’s the first issue?”

  “It appears you have yet to finish the expense report for your last battle with the Bathos.”

  There are gunshots off in the distance. Wonder if they are going to ask for a report for those, too.

  “I will get those reports as soon as my First Officer is finished handling something else.”

  “Zeta Representative SEEEEEEEK speaking at this current moment. What task for which the First Officer is performing is of greater priority than what Zeta and others desire to be done?”

  I patch everyone into Inanna’s helmet feed.

  “Run them down! We won’t let those fuckers take this ship!”

  She proceeds to smash some poor bastard's helmet in, probably getting space glass all over the inside of his face, before throwing him off the Moby’s hull to the ground below.

  “So as you can see, she’s rather busy. Well, good talk. I guess that’s everything. I’ll just be off, then.”

  “Not so fast.”

  Never ends with these people. What now, Tristeriol?

  “I am to understand you and Conqtor were able to successfully destroy a Bathos Mothership.”

  “Yes. I’m sure he would be more than willing to regale you the story over a cheap cognac in an expensive glass. This is his mission afterall.”

  “Please, we both know it wouldn’t be cheap. Unfortunately, we have been unable to contact Conqtor. Do you have an insight on this?”

  “Hold on. Let me get a visual. The Right Hand is just on the other side of the docking bay.”

  The Right Hand of Light is on fire. There is a tank and several rocket launching trucks firing upon it. Somehow patients are still being let in. Is that a rail howitzer?

  “Conqtor is preoccupied.”

  “For how long?”

  I zoom in. I’m pretty sure that’s Conqtor fighting twenty guys with automatic weapons and power armor while he himself is armed with nothing more than a sword. Looks like he’s winning.

  “Lets say an hour. At least.”

  The Geod representative stands up from whatever little project he’d been tinkering with to say something.

  “What is this meeting for again?”

  Right there with you bud.

  “Anything else or can I go?”

  The Cosmos take their turn.

  “A Cosmos ship will bring one of our finest ambassadors to hopefully end these negotiations. You and Conqtor must prepare for their arrival.”

  “Why are you sending someone like that now? Why not a month ago?”

  “Recent events have endeared the Galactic Union to the general population. Now is a perfect opportunity to put our best assets into play.”

  Best assets you say? Then what the Space Hell are me and Conqtor? I’ve been busting my ass trying to keep that caped dunce from starting a war. Meanwhile, they have a perfect negotiator twiddling their thumbs a thousand lightyears away. What were we even doing here? Warm up? Bullet sponges?

  “Fine. That does require some planning. I’ll have to coordinate with the local authorities, set up a hearing, get all these insurance deprived plebians their vaccines then kick them out. Should be ready in a week. Ten days tops.”

  Tristeriol sorts through some files then turns all three of his eyes towards me with disdain.

  “You have twenty hours.”

  “Twenty hours? That’s not even enough time to settle what donuts they will serve in the conference room. Literally. Most places require a three day minimum with deposit.”

  “Make it happen, Captain. That’s your job.”

  “My job was supposed to be helping Conqtor. And I thought his job was to end hostilities between the Union and Protectorate. Not slice a bunch of paramilitaries apart in the streets.”

  “You exaggerate too much.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “Oh do I?”

  I bring up Raze’s screen who is currently holding the frontline at the Moby’s main docking bay.

  “Raze, would you kindly explain to my superiors what it is we are dealing with over here?”

  “Now is not a good time, warm blood. I-”

  There’s an explosion followed by static.

  “Did that look like an exaggeration?”

  “It looked pedestrian. Nothing worth noting.”

  I’ve joined a death cult. Is there anyone here who can get them to stop?

  “Let me check with my Lead Medical Officer. Us opening our medical bay is a huge part of that new good will. There are still a lot of people who need to be seen, after all.”

  Another explosion goes off.

  “More every minute. Sagaci, come in. What is the status down there?”

  Their screen waves a bit as Sa, and only Sa, fills the camera. As the head and upper arms Sa is the only one who can talk so I guess that makes sense.

  “SaHereSaBusyNeedAddHelpInBay.”

  Give Sa a break. They are working with one third of a brain. Fact they can form words at all is a miracle.

  “Where are your other halves?”

  “GaCutCutNowNeedAlone.”

  Translation: Ga is in surgery. The mid section has the most arms and the thinnest. Best for delicate actions like cutting out organs.

  “And Si?”

  The camera pans over to Si, with the four thick leg tendrils, kicking the absolute shit out of some guy.

  “Great work. I’ll leave you to it.”

  “ThankMuchNeedToCutBitch.”

  There are three possible people Sa could have been calling bitch. Can’t decide which is funnier.

  “The Medical bay will be occupied for some time. As long as there are people who need care we are going to be stuck at the dock. Meaning we cannot provide an escort for you.”

  The Cosmos representative looks more confused than anything.

  “We shall provide escort. Your role is more… subdued."

  You putzes sent a walking superiority complex in a cape and expect “subdued”? Might as well set the whole place on fire and expect the room to be cold.

  “What do you want me to do exactly?”

  She sends me several encrypted files. I make sure they are safe in my offline tablet before I start the decryption process.

  “Within those files is all the information we possess on the next and final attempt. Our informant has, at immense personal risk, provided us with everything you will need. Timetables, equipment lists and locations. This has been pieced together for months in anticipation of the arrival of our Negotiator. This is why we cannot delay. Giving them even one additional day will allow new elements we have not yet and may not be made privy to. Despite all our efforts, we still do not know the most important detail. Who is the mastermind.”

  “And the informant, who is that exactly?”

  “That is classified, even at your level. Though as I understand you may know them as R.”

  Good to hear they are alright. Saved my life several times over and I don’t even know their real name.

  “This is all fine and good, but what do you actually want me to do? I’ve been on the defensive every step of the way. Things have only been escalating and a lot of people are going to get hurt. All from some asshole who we don’t have any real info on. Do we even have a motive?”

  “It is the opinion of I, Zeta Representative SEEEEEEEK, that the motive for which these crimes committed should be of clear indication. The individual or individuals responsible have a desire for increased tensions between the Galactic Union and the Interstellar Protectorate for purposes of profiteering of the sale of war materials.

  “So they want the cold war to turn hot?”

  “It is the opinion of I, Zeta Representative SEEEEEEEK, that there is no requirement for active large-scale combat in order to escalate material sales. Merely the continued threat of conflict is sufficient. Interstellar Protectorate officials may be of differing opinions to us in the Galactic Union. However, it is the opinion of I, Zeta Representative SEEEEEEEK, that they are not so deluded as to believe they have the potential to win in a full scale war.”

  “Seems like an immense gamble.”

  “Correct, even knowing the end goal of their machinations, open conflict could easily erupt from either government due to negative popular opinion. It is the opinion of I, Zeta Representative SEEEEEEEK, that our perpetrators must be in a state of extreme desperation.

  I can think of a couple people like that. I haven’t seen Superior for a while. In fact, I haven’t heard anything from the Habruam who I thought were in charge here. All the chaos outside, I haven't seen a single police or military officer anywhere.

  There’s an explosion outside my window. When I read that note saying they would come for the true heart I assumed they meant me. Instead, this is the fifth time they tried to destroy the Moby’s power core.

  “Alcia, did that one do anything?”

  There’s a brief crackle on my com watch before she responds.

  “A few hundred more attacks like that and they might bring the shield down by 1%”

  “Have you got the strike team location?”

  “Counter squad already on its way.”

  “Great work. Let me know if anything else comes up.”

  The power generator seems like such an obvious target, being placed at the direct center of the ship seemingly unprotected. What most don’t realize is that power core has much stronger shields than the rest of the ship combined. Even if the Moby used all of its systems simultaneously at max capacity for hours on end, we would only use about 20% of the core's power output. A Seraph generator of that size can power an entire fleet on its own, if we could find a way to transfer that power at once. All the excess power goes directly to its personal shield. I’ve heard tales of other Expeditionary vessels being completely reduced to microscopic scraps but the power generator remained completely unscathed.

  “Sorry about the interruption, was there anything else or can I get back to saving my ship?”

  “No” The Seraph's voice, calm and soothing, wielding an ancient authority behind every syllable silences the others before they have the chance to drone on. "It is our duty to apologise to you. We have entrusted you with all the tools you need for success. Now, do as is needed. Nothing more.”

  The screens all go black. Finally, some peace and quiet.

  “I’m here!”

  Conqtor pops up on my screen. Covered in sweat, blood and other things I’d rather not know.

  “Sorry I am late, I just needed to… where is everyone?”

  “I’ll fill you in. First thing, what’s that barking? Is that Buena’Ventura and his pet?"

  “Yes. He was visiting my vessel when the attacks started. I took the liberty of letting him stay in my quarters until the situation was resolved.”

  The barking from that amphibian mutt starts to drown out even Conqtor’s voice. Best not to talk around someone not in the Captain's club, even if he is a friend of ours.

  “I’ll send you the documents later. Just finish things up over there.”

  “Right-O. I’ll make sure to, NO! Bad Slaminne! Bad!”

  Sklurmy jumps on the console, overtaking the whole screen. Barking and slobbering the whole time until the screen goes black.

  “Well, guess I need to plan things on my own. At least I have all this info to work off of.”

  “Is fake.”

  “Oh! Space Christ Joan. Almost scared me to death. We need to put a bell on you or something."

  “Papers is fake.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “R tells me. Tells me much things.”

  “... what kind of things?”