Beyond Light

Confidential Directive.

An entire week of more tedious work passed after John received that offer from the conjoint intelligence agents. 

He still could not finish believing it. The Eternity of Return getting attacked? It would be expectable to hear about the dreadnought suffering from other technical problems, as Admiral Frost most likely lied on camera, but an ambush was too surreal to believe. 

Soon he would solve many of his doubts: he woke up earlier than usual that 17th day of November. Alongside agents Brown and Piang, he boarded an ISI transport ship that took them from Ganymede, Jupiter, to Triton, Neptune. The distance between both objects was 25 astronomical units (with 1 AU being the distance between the sun and Earth) and as such, the trip took 22 long hours of sleep and sitting all day.

They arrived at their destination one day after. The intense blue of Neptune appeared over the window next to John’s seat. He always loved the bright color of the planet, as it resembled a supermassive sapphire from outside, although it was another story from its inside. 

Being the farthest planet from the sun, Neptune barely received light and heat. It was the darkest and coldest planet in the system. Only two floating cities had been constructed on its atmosphere: New Warsaw, and New Budapest, and they were the least populated out of the four giants. 

However, the Neptunian system was far from inactive. What the planet lacked in civilian life was compensated on military and scientific presence. There were more than 30 bases and facilities orbiting the planet, and at least 50 stations and refineries on its inside atmosphere. Its biggest satellite, Triton, was the home of many weaponry factories and shipyards. 

John’s destination was one of those bases, which was built underground, like most facilities on the satellite. Triton was one of the coldest places in the system, making it hard and unprofitable to terraform. Even Energy Dome Generators could only increase the temperatures to barely habitable levels. Thermic clothing was a necessity if one didn’t want to die from the massive cold.

The transport ship landed on a designated landing zone of blue lights. John and Agents Brown and Piang stepped out when given green light to descend. Soldiers in black, isolated suits that carried A8 thermokinetic SMGs wandered around.

The Secret Service Guard, or SSG. Those were people that you didn’t want to mess with. Not only did they carry some of the highest grade equipment, but to get in their ranks you needed to be among the best of the best. Only the SolOps were comparable to them, and rivalries were common between both branches. 

A V99 Self-Propulsed Vehicle arrived, emanating blue light from its bottom. It was a unique design of sleek finishes with a triangular shape similar to a shuttle that, instead of relying on wheels and traction, used three aerodynamic propulsors similar to those on a jet fighter to move and keep itself off the ground. Thanks to its flat and heavy platform, it was a stable and popular design ideal for terrains where traction engines had problems maneuvering. 

“There is our vehicle,” noticed Brown. “Come with us, Star.”

The side hatch unlocked, and the three of them got inside. “Black Tomorrows Base is at 20 minutes from here. Please hold on,” the pilot informed.

The hatch door pressurized itself, and the vehicle accelerated; leaving shortly the protection of the EDG towers around the landing zone, moving through the lethally unprotected surface of Triton. They were sealed inside, and the hatches would not open unless the pilot unlocked them. 

At temperatures of -235 Celcius grades, unlocking them would result in instant death by freezing in the blink of an eye. You would not even know what happened to you. Some called it ‘Statuifying’, as that was what happened to the human body if exposed to those conditions. It was a common execution method in the PFSR for criminals with the highest offenses.

“It’s 6:02 AM in Earth time or the 944.5 TU as per the local Tritonian system,” said Agent Brown. He sat between John and Agent Xi Piang. “The directive assembly wants to meet you at 6:30, John. I recommend you to keep quiet and only talk when asked to do so. Leave all your doubts for the end.”

“Why is it? are your bosses people of short temperament?” asked John, gazing through the window at the white fields of methane snow and nitrogen frost. Some geysers shot gas and water up. Neptune glowed above the stary sky.

“Yes. I am sure you already know some of the figures in there,” responded Brown.

“This directive,” explained Xi. “is going to be handled directly by President O’Donnell and Presidents Ivan Turgenev and Cheng Jiang. The ISI and URB executive officers won’t be present.”

John nodded. He had heard stories about Turgenev’s bad character, although he didn’t know if they were true or made-up propaganda for discrediting his image. Still, the highest figures from both entities? the mission had more importance in the big picture than he had thought.“

Anything else I must know?”

“Nothing much. President O’Donnell’s Admirals are going to be there too. Be careful with Hopkins,” advised James. “He is against the idea of naming you the captain to lead this operation.”

Hopkins. A name that provoked mixed feelings in most people of the INN. The man was an impulsive tactician and strategist: bold and ruthless though highly pragmatic, although he was also described as cold, uncaring for human life, and having a temperament shorter than the bolt of an AM1 pistol. He had to be careful with him.

“Hopkins has some of the strongest influences,” said John. “how was I selected for this mission and given such a priority with him being against it?”

“Because there are others in the Navy with similar levels of political influence as him,” said James. “One of them is Royal Admiral William Frost. It was because of his advice that the committee chose you as the most fitting candidate for the project.”

Admiral Frost. John felt relieved that he was going to be there. The man was one of the few people in the highest pay grades that didn’t have a grey history in their careers. He was known to be warm to his subordinates. He taught Blair for some months in the naval academy, and he would often drink coffee and share afternoons chatting with John’s platoon.

“Anyone else?” John asked.

“Not really,” James put out a cigarette and offered one to John, but he denied it with his hand. “Admiral Rin Suzuya has demonstrated minor interest, although it’s apparent that he secretly supports Admiral Hopkins. Admiral Weigh doesn’t take it too seriously. He was about to retire some six months ago but decided to extend his service when President O’Donnell asked him to stay for the project. The other 14 INN admirals aren't aware of the situation, and of course, are not going to be present.”

A black tower covered by rotating parabolic antennae raised in the horizon. EDG towers appeared too, and various cargo vehicles, as well as SSG troops and other specialized agents, moved between tents and other buildings. Anti-Air Rosenkopf cannons made a perimeter of 1200 meters. Various security choppers roamed the area. 

“Black Tomorrows Base,” said Xi. “here we are.”

The pilot of the V99 stopped at the entrance gate, and the guard verified his credentials and biochips. He got the access, and they continued their way in.

The base was larger than it seemed from the outside; it extended way down into a clear area where a giant metallic floor of 1000 square kilometers in dark grey stood. A silo, perhaps? It looked more like a subterranean bay for spacecraft. There was no ballistic armament of such colossal dimensions.

The Pilot drove all the way down to a small building on the other side of the flat area. He got inside, and a guard closed the entrance. 

They left the vehicle, and from there, the conjoined agents took John through a series of unending elevators and corridors of metallic beams and diamond plate floor, where people wearing the ISI or the URB emblems, likely scientists and engineers roamed in and out. John never thought he would see so many people from both entities work that close.

They reached a section at the bottom of the executive directives sector, a nicely polished section in varnished white. A round hatch door of double slices stood at the end. A sign was above it: ‘Directive Office for Priority Committees and Conjoined Operations.’

“There it is,” said Xi “it’s 6:28 AM. The presidents and other personnel must be waiting for you, Lieutenant. Good luck,” he and his partner turned around.

“I thought you would come too."

“This directive doesn’t require our presence,” said James. “I wish you luck in there. I hope to see you again.”Both finally left, in the same way as they appeared at the door of his dorm one week ago. 

John took a deep breath. He was about to meet some of the most important figures of not only the INSU and the PFSR, but the entire solar system. 

But as he heard, President Turgenev was not someone you could be friends with, and Admiral Hopkins already disliked him. The man was a sadist, and he would not hold himself from demonstrating how much he did.

He finally stopped before the door; the disinfection web swept his body, and both sections of the round door sliced right and left. He crossed inside.

The office was not a large room; there was a round table at the center with a holographic projector in the middle. The walls were painted in dark blue, and various holoprojectors and screens were installed on them.

Around the table were the figures John expected to meet; as well as the ones that the agents warned him about. President O’Donnell —who looked like a highly detailed figure of President Kennedy from the XX century— was on the other side, while at his right side his 4 main admirals stood with their hands on their backs. 

At his left side, the scale-sized holographic projections of the two main leaders of the PFSR stood, dressing their black suits of golden strings and collars. 

John walked to be closer and straightened up, doing the military salute. “President Malcolm O’Donnell, here Lieutenant Commander John Star reporting. It’s an honor, sir.”

“At ease, son,” the president responded. He leaned on the table and looked at the projections in the center. John relaxed, although he stood straight with his hands crossed on his back.

“He arrives late,” complained Admiral Hopkins complained. Everyone broke their stances. “I thought someone like him would not make such a foul, especially for something so critical like this.”

“It’s 6:30, Fleet Admiral,” Admiral Frost said, looking at the clock above the entrance. “Just the exact time to begin this directive.”

“One should always arrive five minutes earlier no matter the appointment. I wonder why you selected someone as irresponsible as this man for this operation,” the pink-faced admiral gave John a sweeping look.

“O’Donnell,” the projection of President Jiang spoke with an irradiated tone. “If your admirals have stopped complaining like children, maybe we can begin with this for once.”

“Admiral Hopkins? Shall we commence?” spoke Malcolm with the mocking tone of an elementary school teacher.

“...At your will, mister president.” the pink-faced Admiral frowned.

“Let’s see,” President O’Donnell swept his finger over a holoscreen that appeared before him. “Lieutenant Commander John Star. 28 years old, 182 centimeters, 86 kilograms. Blood type A. Is the information correct?” 

“Yes, sir,” affirmed John. "All correct."

“Very well. Look,” he made eye contact. “I’m going to speak to you casually from now on, as this operation not only requires to follow strict orders. A deep understanding of the situation is needed too. Know that you are going to act independently for most of the part, and we need someone who can make his own decisions. Your history is filled with you in those kinds of situations. Do you think you have what’s needed?”

“Yes, sir,” John confidently responded, mixing it with a nod.

President O’Donnell intensified his eye contact, and a slight grin formed on his fine lips.