CVAF SMEWS/SAMCN Outpost Raegib
L4 Point, Kolbeci, Eyenworb
0712 VST, February 10, 2481
The Class I planet Kolbeci reflected the light of its parent star Eyenworb off its white frozen surface, tinting the black interior of the control level of the Raegib with a soft bluish-white light. The Raegib was a newly commissioned Taroom class orbital node designed to receive data from remote sensors located on the edge of the Stagecoach sector of the Empire, and transmit it to Spacecraft and Missile Early Warning System networks located deeper in Empire space. In addition to its role as a data concentrator, the Raegib also served as the command center for both the Spacecraft and Missile Early Warning System and Strategic Automated Military Command Networks located within the Stagecoach sector.
Hauptmann Synnove Rupertsen sat at her console looking at several screens displaying current radar data from scans near the edge of the sector. Small icons, each one representing a single contact, dotted the screens between various planets and star systems. The arrangement of contacts around trade routes made the screen look as if it were displaying a scan of blood slowly flowing through veins. There were a few icons that littered space between routes, but only a handful. Each was colored according to its alignment with the Empire; blue for neutral, green for friendly, yellow for unknown, and red for hostile. Colors also varied depending on how close to one of the classifications a contact was.
At the sector’s border with the Colmar Federation, a small upstart nation, most traffic was either blue or yellow. Although the Colmar Federation controlled only a few dozen star systems, it presented a possible threat to the sector because of its political alignment and the fact that the Stagecoach was both a frontier sector and borderland. Frontier sectors had relatively few Federal space groups patrolling them, with most border security provided by local governments or other entities such as corporations.
As Synnove picked her raspberry flavored tea up to take a sip, the incursion alarm of one of the displays sounded, its high-low beeping loud enough to draw attention from only those within a several yard radius. She reached up and tapped the screen, silencing the alarm and bringing up a radar sweep of the area where the incursion was taking place. The yellow icon indicated the contact was a large jumpcraft of unknown alignment, at least as far as the mainframes filtering the radar data could determine.
“Traffic scheduling, radar five, I have an unknown contact inbound from Colmar. Coordinates 03.84.21, 10.51.99, and 02.35.00. The mainframe says it’s a large jumpcraft, no name or registration number. Doesn’t look like there are trailers yet. Confirm no scheduled inbounds”, Synnove spoke into her headset.
Her accent was thick with Norwegian, even though she didn’t speak the language. She was born in the Aesir Sector, one heavily populated by people of Norwegian descent. Most of the others on the Raegib were also from the Aesir Sector and spoke with the same accent as Synnove. On the left shoulder of her black spacejumper was the military shield of the Aesir Sector; blue lightning bolts drawn over a silver Mjollnir, set on a blue background. The shield symbolized an ancient god of Norse mythology, Thor, and his powers over the sky. It was no coincidence that the majority of space groups within the Empire were commanded and crewed by individuals from the Aesir Sector.
“Standby radar five, checking now”, scheduling responded.
Incursions along the outer edges of borderlands were common, this was the fourth time today some contact had wandered into space Synnove was responsible for monitoring. Even with the high-tech navigation systems and digital maps on jumpcraft, navigating borderlands was risky business. Smaller factions, pirate groups, and others made the problem worse because their navigation databases were often less accurate.
Moments later scheduling responded, “radar five, no scheduled inbounds for specified coordinates.”
“Roger scheduling.”
Synnove reached up to the display and tapped the yellow icon for the unknown jumpcraft, then tapped the “hail” icon from the pop-up menu. She addressed the jumpcraft, read off its coordinates then requested a response. Waiting about 20 seconds for the response, she hailed the jumpcraft again and received nothing but silence.
“Last chance,” she said to herself before trying to hail the craft a third time.
She looked at the clock on her console, almost two minutes since she first tried to contact the jumpcraft.
“Combat control, radar five, I have an unknown inbound jumpcraft from Colmar”, she said pressing several more menus on the display, “sending you contact’s info now.”
“Roger radar five, we have the info and control.”
As soon as she handed the contact over to combat control, a blue X was placed over its icon and its status changed to read “CBCT”. Synnove paused for a moment, trying to remember what she was doing before the incursion alarm. Unable to remember, she gave each of her displays another good look, then picked up her tea and took a sip. She peered through the semi-transparent displays and over dozens of other consoles to look at the white planet below. Kolbeci was a Class I planet, meaning it was composed mainly of ice. Its surface was scarred by a network of cracks, each of which was thousands of miles long and could be up to several miles deep.
Synnove briefly wanted to add planetary science to her skills when she was in her teens but somehow ended up as a sensor operator-controller, also known as a scope dope, in the Republic Air Force. She started out back in the Aesir sector working in a ground-based SMEWS radar facility, progressing to an airborne then spaceborne unit. Recently assigned to the Raegib, she hadn’t yet bothered to read about Kolbeci or any of its moons.
Pulling up Kolbeci’s data files, she looked over the planet’s vital statistics. Almost 35,000 miles in diameter, two large and five small moons, and composed of mostly deuterium locked in water and ammonia ices. Deuterium fueled the masses of fusion reactors used in everything from large construction machinery to massive space stations. Although the element was common in space, it was rare to find it in concentrations high enough to make recovering it economical. Ammonia was a fuel used in many spacecraft around the galaxy, but was usually manufactured in areas where it was not readily available from natural sources. Water was always a valuable commodity, even though most places humans settled were relatively earth-like with an adequate supply of it.
“A giant ball of money”, Synnove said to herself as she read the stats.
There were a number of mines on the planet, extracting the frozen water and ammonia, and refining them into various compounds to be shipped off-planet. Kolbeci also had several small Army and Air Force installations, but nothing much to speak of. Reading on about unique geologic features, she came across an icy version of a volcano, spewing hot gas and superheated water and ammonia instead of ash and lava.
“That would be neat to see”, she thought to herself.
She was reading about one of the larger moons when she was interrupted by combat control.
“Radar five, combat control. Your unknown inbound had radio problems, he’s headed back out of the sector as soon as his core charges.”
“Roger combat, I have control of contact”, she responded.
The X over the contact’s icon disappeared as soon as combat control surrendered the jumpcraft. Synnove reached up to the display and put the contact on her monitor list so the system would inform her of any major changes in its status.
“Two hours into shift and already four strays,” she muttered, “it’s going to be a long night.”
- - -
Synnove's magneboots thudded dully on the corridor floor as she walked. She had been ordered to report to the node's commander once her shift was completed. She knew why the commander had requested her presence by the time she arrived at the door to his office. Knocking on the door, she opened it after a voice from the other side told her to enter.
"You requested my presence Scharmeister," Synnove questioned as she stood at parade rest in front of the commander's desk.
The commander, Scharmeister Anders Storstrand, was a large man with chiseled features and a flattop hair style. A scar ran from above his right eyebrow, down through his eye and cheek, and ended just above his chin. Synnove could tell his right eye had been severely damaged, possibly even lost, due to whatever left the scar on his face. In its place was a bioelectric eye that could pass as his natural one.
The commander pushed a paper across his desk towards Synnove, "yes, you've got orders," he paused momentarily," and quite frankly I can't wait to get you off my station."
Synnove glanced at him with the best look of confusion she could muster as she picked up the paper.
"I don't know where you really came from or where you're really going, but I know what you are and what you've been up to while on my station," he continued.
She looked up from the paper, "I'm from the Republic Air Force Scharmeister. I always have been, since the day I joined."
"No, you know exactly what I mean, you never even enlisted," he said as his eyes narrowed.
Synnove placed the paper back on his desk, "Am I dismissed," she paused, "Scharmeister."
After waiting almost a minute for a response from Anders, she excused herself and left his office. As she made her way back to her room she went over everything she had done while on the Raegib during the past year. She was sure that she hadn't done anything to clue anyone in on her real purpose for being on the station.
A new message indicator flashed in her field-of-view, injected into her optic chiasm by a processor buried within her body. She imagined reaching out and touching the indicator but didn't let her arm or fingers move to do so.
The message opened and she read it as she walked. It was from her home agency and informed her that a dropcraft would be arriving in 12 hours to pick her up. This was a much faster departure than the orders she had read in Anders’ office. According to those she would be leaving in just over a month.
Synnove stopped in front of her door and glanced down the corridor both directions as she reached for the door handle. The door’s internal bolt retracted with a clunk when her hand made contact with the handle. The room’s bright white lights came on as she entered and tossed her dome helmet on the bed.
Sitting down at her desk just under the room’s only window, she composed a message to her home agency and sent it off. Normally she would use her palmtop computer, but this message necessitated the use of her internal computer for secrecy. She informed her superiors of Anders’ suspicions and that she would be handling the problem herself once the dropcraft arrived to pick her up. With just under 12 hours to tidy any loose ends up, Synnove quickly got to work doing so.
- - -
Another message indicator flashed in Synnove's view an hour before the dropcraft was due to arrive, informing her that the craft had entered the Eyenworb system. She responded with a brief about her plans to handle the problem with Anders.
The dropcraft arrived earlier than expected and within 20 minutes of its arrival Synnove heard a knock at the door.
“Enter,” she said while she reclined facing the window with her boots on the desk and her hands crossed resting on her abdomen.
Two men wearing flat black spacejumpers identical to Synnove's entered followed by a woman wearing one identical to what Synnove had worn during her time on the Raegib.
The taller man spoke as the door closed and Synnove turned around and stood, “I see you’ve changed your look since we last saw you, Reichsgräfin.”
“Yes, it wasn’t as painful as I imagined it would be,” she responded as she walked over to the woman, “My first time. But now that I know what I’m in for when it needs done it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Still a bit sore, yes,“ he asked.
The man was Reichsritter Ulrich Odinwald, a physiologist and flight surgeon. The shorter man, Reichsritter Farag Rais, was a very experienced dropcraft pilot and commander.
“A little,” she responded then looked at the woman, “Is this who we spoke about?”
“Yes Reichsgräfin. I am Hauptmann Synnove Rupertsen,” the woman said, “but I’m just a little confused.”
The woman looked exactly like the Reichsgräfin had up to this point, even down to her mannerisms and tone.
“Don’t let that worry you,” Ulrich responded as the Reichsgräfin turned and walked to the vanity area, “this will be your room during your assignment here on the station.”
Farag approached the Reichsgräfin while Ulrich gently corralled the woman towards the desk, “Sit and enjoy the view. Relax, doctor’s orders.”
She reluctantly sat and Ulrich glanced over to the Reichsgräfin from the corner of his eye. Farag handed the Reichsgräfin a laser pistol from the small black utility bag he carried in his left hand, and sat the bag on the vanity.
The Reichsgräfin brought the pistol in-line with the woman’s head and pulled the trigger. A bright violet laser flashed from the weapon, killing the woman instantly and cleanly, leaving a small spot of melted metal on the opposite wall.
“Not often that you get to commit suicide,” she said as she holstered the pistol and gathered the other items from the utility bag.
“Nope,” Ulrich responded, tossing the pistol from his holster onto the floor next to the lifeless woman, “Let’s get going.”
The trio casually left the room and proceeded to the waiting dropcraft. Few people paid any attention to them as they walked, and that was exactly how the three preferred it. It had been a year, give or take a few months, since Synnove had last seen her dropcraft, the Dragonfly. She smiled as they walked into the hangar where it waited for them, its flat black and well-kept aerofoil shape consuming almost the entire hangar.
There were few markings on the craft, and what it did have were applied in a flat gray so dark they could barely be distinguished from the surrounding black. Painted on the vertical stabilizer was the saltire raguly of the Bandera Imperial which symbolized a noble currently under federal service. Near the nose of the craft, the military seal of the Aesir Sector was painted just forward of her family’s coat-of-arms.
Walking up the spindly looking stairs, Synnove entered the main level of the dropcraft. Although the Dragonfly was based on a design used for cargo, the Alaska class, the main level wasn’t left empty like in most cargo craft. Racks of electronic equipment filled the forward section of the level, while several light vehicles and aircraft occupied the rear.
Synnove’s arrival on the control level was met by the Dragonfly’s flight captain, Reichsritter Franz von Sickingen. The level was illuminated red by general illumination lights and the gentle glows of equipment displays and indicators. An occasional green hue was cast from other display panels such as the ones used by the craft’s pilots.
“Welcome back, Reichsgräfin,” Franz said as he respectfully nodded to Synnove, “the Dragonfly has spent the past six months at the Wilhelm Sigismund Orbital Yards. I’ll brief you on the refit it received once we get underway.”
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