Trial 017 - 2019 Wattys Sci-Fi Winner

Leko Vysin

14.01.2723

Twenty years ago, if someone had approached Vysin about working on a top secret project, he would have said yes. Now, staring at the monitors on the bridge, he wasn't so sure he'd do it again.

"Update me," he said, placing a scaly hand on the controller's headrest.

"Yes sir," the controller replied, quickly pulling up camera feeds and status reports for Vysin to review.

Most of the feeds switched rapidly, following the events unfolding on the planet below. It was difficult to make out what exactly was going on, but altogether, the feeds spelled one thing: disaster.

"Sir?" the controller prodded. "Sir, did you hear me?"

Vysin shook his head and looked down.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I was elsewhere. What do you have to report?"

The controller pointed at individual feeds, magnifying the frames to make them easier to see. One screen showed a dropship under attack as a band of Terrans ambushed a squad on the ramps. Lightning and ice flew across the screen as the Krakoshan troopers attempted to hide inside a grounded skyhopper.

"We've isolated the damage," the controller said. "It appears the earlier reports of an outbreak in sector thirty-four had an effect. Dropships in neighboring zones twenty-one to twenty-three, thirty-three to thirty-five, and forty-five to forty-seven have spontaneously released their cargo. All science centers apart from Commander Senet's airfield are no longer responding. The cryosleep effects for an estimated eighty-five percent have already worn off."

"What?" a high-pitched voice screeched.

Vysin sighed and turned around. Lord Malbar, the royal director of Trial 017, had a tendency to shriek whenever he was under stress. Given the current predicament, it was clear Malbar wasn't taking the situation well.

"That is an entire sector!" Malbar hissed. "That's at least a dozen-"

"At least a hundred Terran subjects on the loose," Vysin corrected. "Malbar, what are you doing here?"

Malbar sniffed and straightened his back. The older Krakoshan was fatter than Vysin, taking up quite a large amount of space on the bridge.

"High Lord Ratan Malbar to you," the lord snapped. "Do not forget your place, peasant. And should you forget, this is my ship. The fleet outside these viewports is my fleet."

"This is my operation," Vysin sneered. "And it's Chief Scientist Leko Vysin to you, lordling. Now, unless you have something important to contribute to this farce, I suggest you vacate my command center."

"You would do well to mind your tone," Malbar reminded him.

Although the lordling tried to project an ominous tone in his words, they both knew it would be an empty threat. Vysin was the one running the show, and he was too vital to the project to simply cut off. If anything, Vysin knew it must irk the lordling to know that he was only there to observe and report. He glared at the fat Krakoshan, silently glaring at the lord and willing him to leave. Finally, as the silence stretched to an awkward level, Malbar averted his gaze.

"In any case, we are being hailed by the King's emissary," he said. "I came onto the bridge to inform you that the emissary is demanding our presence."

Vysin hissed at this, turning and clapping the controller on the shoulder.

"Quickly, inform Commander Vogarin to meet us in the situation room," he said. "Put the emissary through when I get there."