Fifty years and this is what I get, thought Erik, the former warship that now found himself in the bridge of a bloated cargo vessel. He surveyed the bridge surrounding him. It was quiet, dark. Despite his tension, the familiar low hum of engine noise was the only thing keeping him sane. While the rest of the crew was sleeping, Erik sometimes chose to stay awake and think during his previous assignment. It was an annoying habit that seemed to be carrying over to the Hellbender. He couldn’t tell if he was relieved or angry to be reassigned to a position obviously below his stature. However, it was better than the alternative. I could have been removed from service altogether, he thought. It was made worse because he had Ran Akwai to thank for the fact that he still had a job- a truth that sat in his mind like a splinter that wouldn’t come out.
Erik had begun to nod off to sleep when the bridge door dematerialized into the ceiling. First officer Yuriel Lado entered, sat next to Erik and said, “Captain, can I ask you a question?”
“Don’t call me Captain right now. It’s unnecessary. We’ve known each other since Academy,” Erik said, eyes still mostly closed, reclining in his Captain’s chair with his feet propped up on the console in front of him.
“Ok, I’ll try again. Erik, may I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Why are we here? I expected to be removed from service. I expected to be punished
in some way, I suppose. What do you think we’re going to achieve?”
Erik rolled his eyes and repeated the information he was given. “We are being sent
on a diplomatic mission. One to at least attempt to restore ‘Galactic balance.’” His voice held a timbre as if he had already repeated the words in his head thousands of times before putting them to breath. He also unintentionally made air quotes around the words Galactic balance and only realized his subtle sarcasm after the fact.
“Why you? Why us?”
“I wish I could say. Maybe enlistment is down,” he shrugged, “I’ll admit, I messed up pretty badly. I expected to be completely dropped from command. I should be scrubbing toilets right now, but here I am.” His arm wafted across the bridge of the Hellbender. A combination of calm, blue lights and pale, metallic surfaces kissed his fingertips as he brushed the console in front of his chair. The bridge screen showed a dim star field annotated by navigational overlays. “Don’t get me wrong, this obviously isn’t the worst fate I could have suffered. I just have some questions, that’s all.”
“Are you at liberty to elaborate?”
“No, not at this time.”
Yuriel looked down at the floor as if expecting more. The look on her face suggested
her read of Erik was accurate. He was worried and she could tell. It was written into the wrinkles on his face.
“If it means anything to you, I thought you did a great thing at EF 119. If it’s not speaking out of line, I thought it was very respectable. You saved hundreds of Rostran lives.”
“I killed thousands more.”
“You had no way to predict the retaliation. The Saal were going to win the skirmish no matter what. They had the reinforcements. They were going to use them.”
Erik began rubbing his temples as if suffering a headache, “I know. It was an impulse. I would do it again if given the chance. I would be here either way.”
“What good is delivering aid to a remote Rostran colony going to do now? They lost a home world, what do we have on board this ship that is going to make much of a difference?”
“I don’t know. Probably weapons, food, or who knows what. We have such a technological advantage over both the Rostran Empire and the Saal Confluence that the UFAR think they can play deity in Galactic politics. It’s like they're puppets, constantly engaged in their own Holy War while the Republics gain power. We probably have something that will give them an advantage in their next conflict. We have the power to do so. Is it ethical? No, I don’t think so. We keep the other military forces artificially weak.”
