Tales from New Terra

Chapter 8: Dread Nought

The seas off Qua-Toyne

February 25, 51 After Arrival

brief burst of static cut through the usual activity of the NTN Norad, before a mechanical voice echoed through the ship's halls in the Common Tongue.

"Attention. Captain Loras Farlan, please report to the bridge. Repeat, Captain Loras Farlan, please report to the bridge. That is all."

Farlan got up from the cot the Terrans had provided for him. He was given his own room, at least, as befitting of his rank, but the rest of his furnishings were as bare as can be. Aside from the cot, the only furniture to be found in his quarters was a small desk and accompanying chair. To be honest, Farlan missed the posh officer's suite he had aboard the Longbow, filled with cushioned furniture and resplendent with banners bearing the sigil of Qua-Toyne, a golden quiver of arrows and a golden bundle of wheat, entwined proudly on a field of dark forest green. Still, compared to the enlisted mens' bunks, a private room on itself was more than adequate.

He made his way to the bridge, brushing past sailors joking with each other in the Terran language and closely followed by an interpreter. In truth, Farlan thought the interpreter was a Terran spy tasked with making sure he didn't step out of line. He had tried to probe the female-looking Terran's mind with his psychic abilities, but each time he was met with a smooth, solid wall of stone, as if she was hiding her thoughts from him. Sure, they could just so happen to be an adept psychic, but why else would one be following him around?

As he made his way through the destroyer's cramped halls, Farlan took a moment to reflect on his time aboard the Terran vessel. A representative of the New Terran government had approached him after their President's trial, asking if he wished to accompany the expeditionary force they would be deploying to aid his country as an observer. Farlan leaped at the opportunity. An absolutely monstrous ship had escorted his comparatively tiny flotilla into safe harbor, and he was immensely curious as to how this sleek Terran vessel fought.

In his week aboard the Norad, Farlan had seen marvel after marvel. He had been curious as to why the vessel only had one relatively small gun despite being nearly twice the size of one of his light cruisers, and was completely flabbergasted upon hearing the sailors' explanations. It turned out that the Terrans had transcended the use of guns centuries ago in naval warfare. There had long been rumors that the nations of the Central Continent accomplished the same, but Farlan generally didn't believe the tall tales of drunken sailors in less-than-reputable taverns.

Below the Norad's deck, however, were over a hundred launch cells for massive steel arrows, propelled into the sky by streaks of fire and capable of hitting their targets with deadly accuracy. Sophisticated, seemingly exhaust-less engines gave the ship speed unmatched even by the fastest escort ships in the Qua-Toynian Navy. To top it all off, the Norad carried a small complement of aircraft launched from the ship's stern, allowing it to spot its enemies at impossibly long ranges and strike them if needed. The Qua-Toynians had attempted to put the thunderbirds of the Royal Flying Corps on their warships for precisely this reason, but the animals would go mad with fear upon leaving sight of land. Perhaps it was time then, Farlan thought, for his country to build their own flying machines, as the power of naval aviation was far too great to pass up.

Upon reaching the bridge, Farlan was surprised to see the Norad's captain, Robert Doyle, waiting for him. He'd scarcely seen the captain after he embarked, who was often busy deep within the heart of the ship, an area Farlan was barred from entering. Doyle motioned for Farlan to take a seat before speaking.

"Apologies for not being present. Running a warship as complex as this one is quite a bit of work. I do hope you've been comfortable."

Farlan nodded upon hearing the translation from the interpreter.