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Beep beep. Beep beep.
The gentle, but persistent sound of the holo interrupted his morning thought-processing. Slightly annoyed, but trying to stay positive, he turned to the center of the kitchen and flicked his two forefingers to display the holo-dashboard in the middle of the island.
Trent.
He felt a mix of emotions, everything from professional respect to affection to a deep sense of inadequacy. Trent had practically raised him, but that didn’t make him a real father… nor did he act like one, though he had a frustrating way of hinting at paternal affection every now and then. Jack always felt like he had to prove something he could never prove, earn something he could never earn, and then Trent would acknowledge him. He checked to make sure his clothing was appropriate for a holocall with his commanding officer — which is all Trent actually was. He had no doubt that his hair needed attention, but it probably wasn’t bad enough to make him look sloppy. Or unprofessional.
He took a breath, calming his nerves, and then flicked his finger across the hologram’s answer button.
Trent’s 3D image materialized in front of him, as he leaned against the kitchen counter, and sipped macca from his mug.
“Good morning,” Trent’s voice filled his kitchen. Jack waved his finger in the direction on the holo transmission to decrease the volume slightly as Trent continued, “I see I’ve caught you awake at an early hour.”
Trent was well aware of Jack’s sleep patterns. If anything, he had probably timed the call to catch Jack while he was still asleep just to see whether he would take the call or ignore it. Jack wondered if Trent ever wished his protege had the self-discipline to get up earlier.
“I’m up,” Jack declared, moving the mug of macca into view as if to prove he had been awake long enough to dose himself. It was a losing game, trying to meet Trent’s ambiguous standards.
Trent nodded, mockingly acknowledging his “achievement”.
“You’ve caught a case,” he continued with just a tiny hint of disapproval, “Looks like we’re potentially days away from an inter-colony crisis. As yet we have very little intel as to what could have caused such a disturbance, but it seems as though the Drewdonians are in the process of launching an attack on New Atlantia.”
Straight to business, then.
“Drewdonia?” Jack asked, not quite understanding what a relatively new civilization would be doing launching any kind of assault on a colony so well-established and well-resourced as Atlantia.
“It’s one of those new Kepler colonies, right?” he asked.
Trent nodded. “Yes. I honestly have no idea why they would have anything to take up with the New Atlantians. Their primary concerns at this point in their development should be food, water, and effective governance, not questionable military adventures. They still have their hands full with basic terraforming. Be that as it may, we’ve had reports that a Class D starship left their orbit a week ago, with a full crew and fully armed. It’s an older vessel, and fairly slow, but they’ll be in orbit in New Atlantia in 48 hours. Within holo-messaging range in 24.”
Jack pulled up the map of the galaxy on a separate holo. He located Cygnus and turned the map 60 degrees down to bring its direction directly along his eye-line. He spread his fingers to zoom in and a dot labeled Kepler-186 appeared. Everyone on T3 had heard of this colony, and it had many trading relationships with other star systems. Not much was known about its social structures, as contact with the surface had been restricted until recently by the inhabitants themselves. One of the earlier worlds to be colonized after humankind had expanded to the stars some six centuries ago, and known to be a fairly advanced society if still somewhat basic by T3 standards. He wasn’t quite sure where to find Drewdonia, though.
“What’s the Drewdonian star’s designation?” he asked Trent, placing his mug on the counter behind him, distantly aware that he hadn’t shaved in two days, and that the camera may have zoomed in on his face. He turned back to the screen, trying to focus on the job at hand, and hoping that the lens would readjust. He had no way of checking, though.
Trent looked at his own holo report off-screen, “Kepler-442.”
“442…” Jack repeated under his breath, as he initiated a search. The map froze, then jumped forward. 442 was in the next constellation over from T3: the Lyra constellation.
Hmm, he mused to himself.
“I’d like you to handle this one, Jack,” Trent told him, “You need to find out what is going on and what the motives are behind the attack. Avert any potential conflict. We can’t have new colonies suddenly destroying themselves for no real reason. We invest too much in the colonization process, and these guys are first-generation for the most part. They should know better. If there is a problem with the settlement process, we need to know about that, too. Discreetly.”
Jack nodded, intrigued by the strange events and the new challenge. Just behind those initial thoughts lurked musings about how much he’d like to prove himself to Trent. If Jack could wrap this one up quickly and easily, perhaps Trent would trust him enough to confide in him more, to act like their lifelong connection actually meant something.
He pushed the thought out of his head. He knew he was probably just setting himself up for disappointment.
Trent was still talking.
“I don’t need to remind you that even a single conflict in one place sets an example of conflict in the collective unconscious, as well as infecting the Federation with behavior models that we’ve largely managed to eliminate. This is something we don’t want any other colonies modeling.”
Jack bookmarked the map on his holo render for easy reference later.
Trent continued, “Your task is to land on New Atlantia and meet with their leader. See what you can find out about the nature of the conflict. At all costs you need to keep this from becoming a full-scale shooting war. Drewdonia doesn’t have the spare resources to have one of their ships and crew blown to pieces over something stupid.”
“Got it,” Jack confirmed, wondering if this conversation was going to be all business, or whether Trent was going to ask how he was. Either way, he’d follow his mentor’s lead.
“You’ll be taking Ally, I assume?” Trent asked, his voice softening somewhat.
Jack nodded. “Of course. I’ll holo her in a moment.”
“Good.”” Trent hesitated, as if he had something else to say, and then seemed to change his mind. “Stay safe out there, Jack. You’re heading straight into a conflict environment. This isn’t a simulation. You fuck up, you get dead. Do you understand?”
Jack nodded again, wondering if the man’s concern was anything more than professional…
…It was coming up on two years since Trent had been stationed in Reykjavik. Jack still didn’t know if he’d requested the assignment so they could work together more often, or if it was just a coincidence that he was needed at Federation HQ.
Trent had been the one constant in his life since childhood. He’d kept an appropriate distance, checking in on Jack from time to time as the years went on. He couldn’t help but feel that Trent had been quietly directing his strange, but privileged, upbringing. The man certainly had the power to pull strings, despite assuring him that he had gotten into the Academy on his own merits.
Jack had always suspected Trent had somehow made his psych-eval “disappear” at the very least. He knew what Jack had been through better than anyone, and he must have known that Jack would never have been able to pass the screenings required of all the other candidates.
His time at the Academy had been some of the best years of his life. He didn’t see Trent very often except in passing, but Trent would occasionally knock on his door and invite him out for a long afternoon discussing science and philosophy in an off-site macca bar or cooking stir-fry with him in his own apartment. Trent was also his teacher for the single most important class he took: Protocols of Peace. In fact, Trent was something of a legend for designing these Protocols, the source of much of his power and prestige. These were the guidelines the Federation used for overseeing the colony worlds and maintaining peace between them, based on Trent’s synthesis of hundreds of years of research into behavioral economics, cognitive processing, developmental and environmental psychology, and other topics.
Two years ago, Trent had moved from the Academy in Vienna to the Federation Headquarters to take on a bigger role, overseeing the Peace Task Force for the Federation galaxy-wide. After all, he had written the model on the theory.
HQ, however, was also Jack’s local base. It seemed natural that they would stay in touch, especially considering their long history. But one holocall a week turned into one a month, and before Jack knew it they were no longer talking at all except for work.
To Ally, something about it just didn’t seem right. Jack’s childhood had been cut short — his father was gone and his mother had left him, so it was only natural that Jack would have attached himself to Trent at a young age. Still, it was obvious to Ally that Trent was cold and narcissistic, and she could only hope that Jack would someday see that and stop looking for warmth and acceptance where there was none.
Flicking his notes closed, Jack fidgeted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. Eight hours. He should at least try and get some rest before they got to the Cygnus system. He knew roughly what he’d be stepping into. He would need to focus — which meant being in the moment, not worrying how anyone else would view him and judge his actions. Closing his eyes, he settled back into the reclining pilot’s chair and tried to sleep.