Credible Prime

Doctrine

     For generations Yend doctrine prophesized that the Beacon would be Yend,  would lead Yend to the truth at Kalus, and would ultimately lead to the defeat of the Seekers, spelling out with no uncertainty the truth of  Yend legend.  That legend always held that Creation was a system of chance.  But that was before the dream of Krux Koda.  That was before his Beacon called the Mercs of Kalfate to action and led the universe to Kalus.  Now that the Beacon was on the side of the Seekers nothing could be left to chance.  Pol said it was always in play, this battle on Kalus.  It was even part of an official contingency plan. The Protect feigned concern and reflective contemplation- even melancholy- when he talked about Kalus's Armageddon. But it was a necessary means to an end. Eliminating the planet meant eliminating anything The Seekers could use to perpetuate their fiction. It was a necessary evil.  Of course this was all grandstanding by Pol.  While his true intent was definitely to protect the Yend philosophy, and while outwardly he projected a meek bit of compassion and gravity associated with the pending attack, Pol was, at his core, a sadist.  Only through that relentless vacuum of emotion could he keep the Yend in line.  Only through that internally cataclysmic evil which he so easily adopted could his entire worldview be maintained.  So with a hooked snarl on his face and a brow furrowed in contempt, his outward appearance betrayed his internal mettle.  His contempt was not from hate or disdain.  This darkness, this seething moral erosion was as much a part of him as a fingernail or strand of hair.

     Ensign Delta watched the armada move into an attack formation.  Eons of military might was on full display through the view screen and the attack strategy that Delta saw being calculated before him insured the planet's complete annihilation.  In the distance he watched a meager battle wage on. Merc attack ships tried, in vain, to attack a Yend destroyer.  Bursts of fire and smoke marked death after death as the Merc resistance ships exploded one after another.  The destroyer was a megalithic beast of war.  The tiny fighters were hardly more than pesky insects but Ensign Delta felt the anguish of the ages as Merc after Merc met Oblivion and learned the Great Unknown amid explosive pain and the fury of molten metal.  As their bodies were consumed in each tiny firefight in the distance, as their deaths pockmarked the smoldering star field far away, Delta knew that his destiny was apart from the Stargazer and that his mission was no longer as throttle man or second ensign on the starboard steerage module.  His fate would be written in his own blood, sweat and tears. But he was no longer going to be complicit in Pol's war doctrine. 

     He wrestled with his belief in the Yend, a faith that he had always known.  But his heart ached for a family he hadn't seen outside Holo-calls and Transmits in nearly 10 Standards.  Now facing the eruptive destruction of the Yend Armada, Delta's family-a doting mother, a work-worn father and a sister he's never seen face to face- were relying on him- though they did not know it-to save them. To save them all.
     He'd have to act fast though. He'd have to do something he'd never dared to think of before.  His capture would mean instant execution.  Individual mutiny was almost worse than disbelief  in Pragmatica.  Violators didn't even enjoy a mock trial. Those who had done it before were simply jettisoned into space, into a frozen Oblivion.  Delta was neither brave nor resourceful. But the salvation of his bloodline embedded him with nearly fanatical ambition to save them.  It had been hours since he transmitted the message to the Hammerlight.  He had heard nothing.  Now troops had been dispatched.  A battle raged on against the nearby destroyer and Merc ships were making their way to the Stargazer.  In order for Delta's plan to work, a plan he came up with as the seconds ticked by, he'd have to surmount impossible odds. Since the Hammerlight wasn't answering, since time was of the essence, since Pol's pacing along the catwalk was quicker and quicker,  indicating his patience was wearing leaner and leaner, Delta knew that the time was now.   He'd have to leave his post with an excuse that prevented an immediate search for him.  He'd have to make his way to the main hangar bay- a restricted area-then board a fighter-which he could barely fly during training-and somehow pilot it through a debris field that had been known to pulverize the best pilots of lore.  He would have to do all of this while being chased by other fighters who would, no doubt, be alerted to the mutiny.  But mutiny, if his family perished, would be the least of his concerns. Delta made his choice. He turned to the First Engineer.
"I've got to go to the commissary", he said half-heartedly,  attempting to sound sincere.  His counterpart crinkled his brow.
     "I don't care if you go but if the Deck Master sees you away from post, I know nothing".
     Delta flashed the faintest of smiles, did an awkward kind of gesture even he wasn't sure of and walked away.  He had access to the hangar but had to have business there in order to be on deck,  otherwise it was a 24-hour inquisition. All the while,  his head was aching from the quite archaic means by which he dispatched the mind plant  that monitored any impure thoughts against the Yend.  He disabled it during a quick trip to the lavatory just before he hatched the insane plan.  He knew he had just moments before the monitors realized his mind plant was no longer online.  He fingered the access card in his uniform pocket, his hands sweaty and nerves icy.  But towards the hangar bay he pressed on. 
     At the entrance he fumbled an excuse about needing access to an auxiliary junction that powered his steerage console. The deck officer keyed in his access code and swiped his card. Now safely in the fighter wing of the hanger,  Delta climbed into the cramped cockpit of a Yend fighter.  Delta wasn't a big man by any means but it felt like he was wearing the spacecraft more so than sitting in it.  Out of the front viewport he saw the vastness of debris and rubble that marked Kalus's outer junk belt.  He placed his hands on the throttle and collective, skipped the pre-fight checklist (mostly because he couldn't remember it), and pulled the launch trigger as the unauthorized launch alarms blared. 
"Mutiny", he whispered as he closed his eyes.