World In Turmoil

9: A Distant Deception

In the distance of space.
Across an indeterminable void.
Sat Ulem Station.

The LSN command centre of the Albanda Sector.

GaPC: 45-7-5-5
( Galactic_Positioning_Code )

Shaped like a huge duel ended spike, it bristled with windows and extremities, with three outer rings hosting a variety of docking clamps, resource ports, and most importantly, weapons.
The station was an imposing affair.
Blue and orange, it was beautifully constructed with as much love and care as a parent would show to their child's treehouse.

Atop the highest point of the North end of the station, was the Superior Admiral's Recreational Quarters. Basically where a hard working admiral could go to get some rest.

A 2-meter thick super-glass dome surrounded it. Allowing for a breathtaking view of the galaxy on all sides. Stars were spread about the cosmos like a vast sea of soft glowing lights.
A blissful oblivion of all perceivable colours, and the life that surrounded, and relied on them.

The dome itself was equipped with a small garden in the very center, populated with a variety of plant life. From Rechels Flower, a towering thin green stalk, riddled with regal leaves and a purple head. To Irideno, a primarily yellow bush like plant, with leaves as soft as silk. Not to mention a sprinkling of local grasses interwoven into the representative bowl of flora.

Many of the plants within the small garden had been presents for the Superior Admiral back when the LSN first supplanted the sector's old owners, and secured governance over its sub-zones.

Amongst other things the dome boasted a secondary-central computer terminal. A direct connection to the Stations main AI, and data-mainframe.
Not to mention, the dome also hosts a list of exercise equipment for keeping one's physique healthy in the low-G environments of space station gravity fields.

Across the large dome, stood at the very brink of one side, opposite the Computer Terminal, back faced to the quaint garden, and eyes staring out into the vastness of space, into the sector she so 'graciously' governed.
Stood Superior Admiral Revanna.

She was tall. Roughly 6ft. Light brown hair, and an imposing presence. Clothed in a dark orange trench coat hanging heavily off her figure. An arm behind her back, the other, holding a small communication pad.

Behind her, a hologram flickered in the pleasant gloom of the dome room. The figure of a hooded monk. Clothed head to toe in a maroon fabric. Lips, tightly pressed together into an ominous frown. Stood, silence radiateing from his ethereal presence.

Ahead, Revanna listened intently to the small comm-pad. Her knuckles white, a mixture of anger and pleasure rushing through her bones. Sending tingles of ravenous excitement shooting into her mind.

On the other end of the communica, Yemun Gunstoff the Regional-High-Admiral, was barking into her ear with an anger, that could only be expressed as resonant rage.

"Superior Admiral Revanna, planet Taraven in GaPC: 45-7-7-4 is transmitting a star-ton of emergency broadcasts directly to Regional Command on every conceivable frequency! Detailing a rebel LSN assault on the local city of Gersanto. From what we've been able to gather, all of the outposts in your district aren't acknowledging a SINGLE BROADCAST!!! Thusly they've had to aim up the chain of command! What the hell are you up to?"

She suppressed a silent snigger of exhilaration. Then, like some devilish actress, she switched to the voice of a thoroughly orthodox soldier.

"High-Admiral. With all due respect, I must inform you that we haven't received a single distress signal. In Fact, even Gemini Fleet, the closest active military force to Taraven, isn't reporting any distress signals either."

There was a silent annoyance, that seemed to emit a burning aura through the comm-pad. The High Admiral was not amused.

"Revanna." There was a deep breath of absolute frustration and annoyance, "Even Superior-Admiral Iveden is receiving the broadcasts. In Fact, all THREE sectorial command centers around you are confirming that they are receiving broadcasts, and that's not even mentioning the FIVE that are not under my regional jurisdiction!"

Revanna stood, a hidden hatred deep in her chest. A dark ball of ooze. She picked up a response with added defence.

"Impossible. Absolutely impossible sir. I have to refuse. It's inconceivable that I am not receiving transmissions from within my own sector." She paused for a moment, as the cogs of her mind clicked effectively into place. She saw a chance to begin her deception, "...maybe sir... Agg... Maybe we have ZorZackien infiltrators in our midst..." She stopped for dramatic effect.

The old and tactical rumble of the High-Admiral slowly faded in, "Agg... that is a serious possibility."

Seeing her chance to weave herself into the side of innocence, she whispered, "Indeed sir... This is actually unsettling me."

The High' gave a cough, and restarted with renewed vigor, "In that case, this is even more pressing. Revanna, I'm ordering you to dispatch the Gemini Fleet to aid Taraven. I want this figured out immediately so we can sort out your flimsy communication problems."

"But sir, even Gemini isn't saying anything about the signals... infact... now that I think about it the last communication we got from them was a Galactic-Week ago... They haven't been saying anything at all..."

An incomprehensible silence fell like a jackhammer at the other end, a silence that refused any sort of discernable response.

She swiftly added.

"Anyway I refuse to send additional forces to a distress broadcast I, am not receiving. Especially if there are possible saboteurs amongst us. The danger of ambush is... well..."

The silence only thickened. Condensing on the roof of the dome, and dripping like some unseen precipitation.

Figuratively, Revanna became slowly drenched in a heavy silence.

She turned, pushing a distinctly confused expression towards the maroon clothed monk.

He still stood. His hood concealing his face. Arms crossed. Emotionless. The hologram flickering occasionally.

In a tentative gesture Revanna prodded.
"Sir?"
The response was unusually shaky.
"I'm here... I just."
He sighed audibly. A deep uneasiness growing at the base of his mind. His answer was stern, and foreboding.

"I cannot allow this insane play to continue any longer. Revanna. I'm ordering you under Ranking-Authority to take your Reserve Force and assist the Protectorate forces on Taraven. And damn well find Gemini as well."

She suppressed a shudder as the cogs of her mind began to whirr again.

"Admiral. Sir." She began. "Gemini is a 9th degree combat fleet. If something else was powerful enough to incapacitate the whole fleet... then neither my reserves, nor my whole battalion will be able to deal with this situation."

The High gave a considerate sigh.
"...you want reinforcements, yes?"

"Please sir." She affirmed.

Very well. I shall order Iveden to dispatch one of his companies to your aid. But, in the meantime I want you to send scouts to get a feel for the situation."

With a pleased breath, Revanna agreed. "Very well sir, I shall dispatch a scout team under the command of Fleet Commander Wallen O'hare."

"Excellent. High-Admiral out."

The little commpad gave a respectful beep, and flashed to a still image of CONNECTION TERMINATED.

"So it begins."

Stated the nefarious maroon clothed monk.

His mouth finally widened into a vicious grin.