AnonyMouse
Senior Member
“ITF case number: 847529. Sauphira Indira Aurelia. 36 years old. Codename: ‘Swordfish.’ Threat level: S,” Commander Garret Maxxon said, beginning the briefing. What followed was nearly an hour of everything he knew about their target. “I’ll stick to the facts.”
She was born on Khaleshtu, a raft city in northeastern Tymar, a refugee camp made of rusting old ships chained together into a sort of floating ghetto. A lot of them sprang up shortly after the ITF arrived to uplift the Tymari people. Most were raided and destroyed when the ITF realized the rafts were a breeding ground for political dissidents, resulting in forced migrations to the domed cities, where these populations could be closely monitored.
Even from a young age, Sauphira had always been proficient with machines and computers. After her mother was killed, she enlisted in the Tymari Defense Force as a combat engineer, but never saw action. A ‘peace’ treaty dissolved the TDF and made the ITF the sole military presence on Tymar. They scuttled most of Tymar’s military hardware and disbanded the soldiers.
One of Commander Maxxon’s first assignments was to oversee a shipbreaking yard where vessels from the Tymari fleet were being scrapped to build the domed cities. Even back then, any fool could see Tymar would not go peacefully. There were daily protests and the occasional scuffle between his men and the natives. On the surface, it looked as if the ITF had won… but, on Tymar, nothing is ever as it seems.
Meanwhile, Sauphira was on Roan, Tymar’s moon, researching propulsion dynamics and quantum field subversion at a private school. While researching her background, Maxxon had found samples of her schoolwork and pictures of her in her early twenties. She was smart, articulate, and --though it frightened him a little-- attractive. Her features were striking and exotic, but her smile was human. Too human.
‘You created this demon.’ Silmaris’s words echoed in his mind as he sped through this part of the briefing. The rafts. The domed cities. The stealing of their water. The forced labor. The corruption of the seas. If not for the ITF, Sauphira and the millions of bitter Tymari who followed her might still be ‘normal’ people, living normal lives.
But he knew that was a lie. Sauphira’s smile was a fake one. In her heart, she thirsted for destruction and her college days were just a means to that end. The Tymari people had colonized their moon and some nearby planets using conventional, sub-lightspeed travel, but did not possess warp travel or an understanding of gravity drives, the Higgs effect, or kinetic encapsulation, key concepts for interstellar travel. Sauphira didn’t go to school to make friends; she went to arm herself with the knowledge to destroy the enemy.
Vaemire IV was proof of that.
“Let’s take a break here,” Maxxon said, as he set down his datapod. “We’ll take a ten minute recess and then move on to recent history: the formation of the Aurelian Legion, Operation: Blowfish, and… Vaemire IV, of course. Then Fiiros and our plan of attack.”
Most of the twelve men nodded in agreement, except for one. Sergeant Kyle Hughes, a bearded mountain of a man with a scar across his cheek had been looking increasingly agitated as the briefing went on. He didn’t ask any questions or say a word the entire time, but his body language was practically screaming.
As Maxxon moved toward the door, Hughes suddenly stood and blocked him. “Sir,” Sergeant Hughes said, his intense gaze level with the commander’s. “With all due respect, you ain’t told us a word we don’t already know. What is this? Can’t we just get on with the goddamn mission and do what we shoulda done months ago: nail this bitch?”
The room became deathly silent. All eyes were on the two of them. Maxxon knew a lot was riding on what he said next.
“Sergeant Hughes… no, Kyle,” the commander said carefully placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I know you're angry. You all are. But... but sometimes, a briefing isn’t about what you know. It’s about what you understand.” He stepped past Sgt. Hughes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go to my quarters and send out some reports. I’ll be back in a moment.” he paused with one hand on the door. "And... when I return, I hope you all understand. I truly do."
He exited the briefing room and shut the door behind himself. And locked it. The bridge was exactly as he had left it. Every man and woman was seated at their workstations, staring straight ahead, as if he wasn't even there. A cold sweat slowly trickled down his brow to the edge of his chiseled jawline. He stiffly saluted the crew before briskly walking to the elevator, alone. Maxxon felt as if he couldn’t breathe, like his chest was in a vise.
He stepped inside the elevator and mashed the button to take him to his private quarters. The moment the doors closed, he leaned back against the wall and tore open the stifling collar of his ITF uniform. He felt as if the clothing was strangling him. He wanted to tear it all off. “What have I done?” he muttered. “What have I done?”
Ding.
The elevator doors opened and there she was. “The Lord’s work,” Sauphira said as she stepped inside.
She was born on Khaleshtu, a raft city in northeastern Tymar, a refugee camp made of rusting old ships chained together into a sort of floating ghetto. A lot of them sprang up shortly after the ITF arrived to uplift the Tymari people. Most were raided and destroyed when the ITF realized the rafts were a breeding ground for political dissidents, resulting in forced migrations to the domed cities, where these populations could be closely monitored.
Even from a young age, Sauphira had always been proficient with machines and computers. After her mother was killed, she enlisted in the Tymari Defense Force as a combat engineer, but never saw action. A ‘peace’ treaty dissolved the TDF and made the ITF the sole military presence on Tymar. They scuttled most of Tymar’s military hardware and disbanded the soldiers.
One of Commander Maxxon’s first assignments was to oversee a shipbreaking yard where vessels from the Tymari fleet were being scrapped to build the domed cities. Even back then, any fool could see Tymar would not go peacefully. There were daily protests and the occasional scuffle between his men and the natives. On the surface, it looked as if the ITF had won… but, on Tymar, nothing is ever as it seems.
Meanwhile, Sauphira was on Roan, Tymar’s moon, researching propulsion dynamics and quantum field subversion at a private school. While researching her background, Maxxon had found samples of her schoolwork and pictures of her in her early twenties. She was smart, articulate, and --though it frightened him a little-- attractive. Her features were striking and exotic, but her smile was human. Too human.
‘You created this demon.’ Silmaris’s words echoed in his mind as he sped through this part of the briefing. The rafts. The domed cities. The stealing of their water. The forced labor. The corruption of the seas. If not for the ITF, Sauphira and the millions of bitter Tymari who followed her might still be ‘normal’ people, living normal lives.
But he knew that was a lie. Sauphira’s smile was a fake one. In her heart, she thirsted for destruction and her college days were just a means to that end. The Tymari people had colonized their moon and some nearby planets using conventional, sub-lightspeed travel, but did not possess warp travel or an understanding of gravity drives, the Higgs effect, or kinetic encapsulation, key concepts for interstellar travel. Sauphira didn’t go to school to make friends; she went to arm herself with the knowledge to destroy the enemy.
Vaemire IV was proof of that.
“Let’s take a break here,” Maxxon said, as he set down his datapod. “We’ll take a ten minute recess and then move on to recent history: the formation of the Aurelian Legion, Operation: Blowfish, and… Vaemire IV, of course. Then Fiiros and our plan of attack.”
Most of the twelve men nodded in agreement, except for one. Sergeant Kyle Hughes, a bearded mountain of a man with a scar across his cheek had been looking increasingly agitated as the briefing went on. He didn’t ask any questions or say a word the entire time, but his body language was practically screaming.
As Maxxon moved toward the door, Hughes suddenly stood and blocked him. “Sir,” Sergeant Hughes said, his intense gaze level with the commander’s. “With all due respect, you ain’t told us a word we don’t already know. What is this? Can’t we just get on with the goddamn mission and do what we shoulda done months ago: nail this bitch?”
The room became deathly silent. All eyes were on the two of them. Maxxon knew a lot was riding on what he said next.
“Sergeant Hughes… no, Kyle,” the commander said carefully placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I know you're angry. You all are. But... but sometimes, a briefing isn’t about what you know. It’s about what you understand.” He stepped past Sgt. Hughes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go to my quarters and send out some reports. I’ll be back in a moment.” he paused with one hand on the door. "And... when I return, I hope you all understand. I truly do."
He exited the briefing room and shut the door behind himself. And locked it. The bridge was exactly as he had left it. Every man and woman was seated at their workstations, staring straight ahead, as if he wasn't even there. A cold sweat slowly trickled down his brow to the edge of his chiseled jawline. He stiffly saluted the crew before briskly walking to the elevator, alone. Maxxon felt as if he couldn’t breathe, like his chest was in a vise.
He stepped inside the elevator and mashed the button to take him to his private quarters. The moment the doors closed, he leaned back against the wall and tore open the stifling collar of his ITF uniform. He felt as if the clothing was strangling him. He wanted to tear it all off. “What have I done?” he muttered. “What have I done?”
Ding.
The elevator doors opened and there she was. “The Lord’s work,” Sauphira said as she stepped inside.
