3- Drazen

Drazen

The Reach was failing yet again, and Grand Admiral Carter Drazen seethed as his shuttle skittered alongside the sprawling monstrosity that stabbed inward into the Morass. They were approaching the portside of the last dock, where an engineering team was making emergency repairs. Again. An electrical fire had broken out. Again. The systems team was making excuses for electromagnetic interference. Again.

“Time to arrive?” he asked, knowing the answer. When he spoke, he was calm and direct. To be so he needed to be focused. To be focused he had to move past the claxon of “again” blaring in his head. So he asked easy questions.

“Eleven minutes, sir,” the helmsman responded.

“Status of the latest incident?” Drazen turned to Evans, his chief lieutenant.

“The fires are just about out. Reach integrity should be restored within the hour, at which point we will be able to reconnect with the fleet.”

“Good. And the next segment?”

“Underway, sir, but progress has stalled. The basic hull has been formed, but we still lack the material to complete it.”

In the final hours of the Dzengharian Empire, the powers-that-be saw the writing on the wall and wisely decided it was not in their best interest to allow the Resistance to accumulate any more firepower. It was better to tuck fleets away in the more unhabitable parts of the galaxy. The Morass, a semi-connected series of nebulae dead center in Bellzator space, was one of presumably many, and by far the best and worst of hiding spots. It was a void in space, a dead zone.

But the hidden armada was a known unknown. It was the single most guarded secret of Bellzator high command. The issue was how to get to it. Probes launched into the depths went offline before transmitting data. Finally, the question was asked: instead of using probes as glorified missiles, sent off into the void until collision or loss of power, what is they were launched at specific distances? There was a chance they could daisy-chain a connection outside the Morass.

Thus the Reach. A bridge from hospitable space to the unknown, unforgiving center of the Morass.

The initial sections were built from available material – derelict craft, decommissioned warships, scrap from the abandoned ring station that traversed one of the two gas giants in the system – but as Drazen’s team plunged deeper into the Morass they were faced with a shortage of materials. They begged, borrowed, and stole wherever they could. The further the Reach went, the more haphazard its design became. Ships lost to the nebulae were welded together into ungainly waypoints, with thick cords of steel wrapped around like exposed tendons. Work was done as fast and as efficient as possible, typically at the expense of safety. It became a perverse tradition to weld the corpses of those who died in the line of duty to their part of the Reach. What you gave to the Reach was all you could give.

“We were too optimistic when we started this endeavor. Hindsight being what it is, we should have built smaller at the onset. The reality being what it is, we must continue to improvise.”

“The Science Division has noted it will require a minimum of three more stations before we reach the armada.”

He did the math. To withstand the gravitational fluctuations within the Morass, the ideal station length was 750 meters. For the past few stretches, they had dwindled down to 500 and the results were as expected. Circuitry was failing daily and never twice in the same location.  Hulls in the more recent sections had a tendency to collapse without warning, triggering events all the way down the line to outside the Morass.

“Do we have the materials on hand?”

“We estimate capacity for one and a quarter stations, but the quality is… lacking. We’ve used up almost everything inside and outside the Morass. We’re down to satellites, probes, and detritus.”

You could scuttle the Valiant, Drazen told himself. That alone could bridge most of the gap between the Reach and the small fleet of warships the Dzengharian Empire wisely tucked away in the semi-connected nebulae in the center of Bellzator space. To trade his command ship for superior technology and fire power was a logical choice. Drazen was above all a practical man.

To Drazen, the universe made sense when broken down into manageable components. Then you could see the bigger picture. It was logical that once the Dzenghar fleet was rescued, Bellzator would leverage it to their advantage. To rebuild the system would take significant investments, so it was better to lay claim on resources through strength of force. If there was a lesson learned from centuries under Dzengharian rule, it was that it was better to be at the top of the food chain. If there was a single guiding principle to Drazen’s plans, it was “never again.” And if that meant grafting The Valiant onto the Reach, so be it. It was a decision made of reason.

And was that such a bad tradeoff? The Reach was finally close enough to prove a full inventory. The Dzengharians had left a bounty of superior firepower: capital ships – including two A class dreadnaughts, destroyers, assault carriers, planetary orbitals, ground assault vehicles, and scores of light fighters. Even if they were in less than stellar condition, it more than tripled the size of the system’s current navy and provided them the strength to impose their will. Drazen was a firm believer in peace through superior force, and he looked forward to putting it to practice.

“How is the Reach integrity overall? Can it withstand a capital ship?”

Evans paused, a look of concern on his face. The Valiant was as much a home to him as it was his commanding officer. “It’s possible. But it’s also just as possible that the ship would permanently sever the link back to the fleet.”

“How possible is possible, Evans? Is it a fifty percent chance we ruin everything by being too eager? More? Less?”

“About even, sir. We’re tenuous at best right now, and that’s on good days. Given the electrical issues in the furthermost Reach stations, I would assume the worst. It’s just as likely that we take the entire structure down with a power surge.”

“More smaller craft?” Again, an answer he knew but asked anyway.

“Commandeering any more private vessels runs the risk of attracting unwanted attention. There is already considerable outcry already. Our fighters could make it, but we would have to cannibalize them all to complete the Reach. We would be without any small craft.”

“And defenseless,” Drazen replied, “until we extracted the armada.”

“And provided their small craft are operational.”

“Which remains an unknown.” So close. They were so close. These final obstacles were maddening.

“Sir?” Evans hesitated.

“Yes Evans?”

“There is the Grand Realignment.”

“Go on.”

“We will be one of the central hubs. It’s arguable that we need additional supplies to reinforce our last remaining Ring Station. In order to handle the influx of traffic.” He looked hopeful.

“Excellent idea, Evans, but one we’ve already debated. Eres and the other principals have committed to building out the resources and we have committed to what we need for our military purposes. Given the newness of the agreement, there will be limited opportunities to take more than the bare necessities. Besides, there is the larger issue of what to do when it’s noticed our command ships are located around this nebula. Questions will be asked. That is why we need to be set before the trade routes are reopened.”

As if on cue, another fire erupted in the Reach. The shuttle shook briefly, disrupted from its flight path. As klaxons blared, Drazen noted three forms had been ejected into the void by the blast.

Drazen seized on an idea. “Signal the Valiant. Upon my return, we’re to evacuate all non-essentials and staff only with the barest minimum. Volunteers only. Strip her down to the essentials needed to make it to the outermost point of the Reach. There should be enough scrap material on the Valiant to reinforce this station as well as complete the handshake.”

“Sir, I’m afraid I’m not understanding. As I said, the Reach itself may collapse if we graft the Valiant onto the Reach.”

“You are correct. It is too risky. But we can use the Reach to send her close enough to the armada. Use the probes to calculate the best possible trajectory. The Valiant must be in close enough proximity without triggering system failure.”

“Sir, that’s almost as risky. If the ship cannot complete the journey. the crew may very well die.”

“Evans, as long as we’re stuck battling this,” he gestured towards the station, which appeared to have lost shielding in the last explosion, “we are at a disadvantage. Extracting the armada is our sole purpose. Without it, we will remain at the mercy of the other systems. Reforging the empire in our image is not a grand idea. It is a necessity.”

“I understand, sir. But wouldn’t it be prudent to use another ship? Not the command ship?”

“There may yet be a need for the other vessels. We are at the eve of war, Evans. We all must make sacrifices. If it takes The Valiant and her crew to give us the armada, it will not be in vain.”

Drazen was no longer seething. He had renewed purpose.