Action Reports

© 2019 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  rabbi-tom


Contrary to what Terra’s Ministry of Information was saying to their citizens, the Confed Fleet had sustained losses in several small-unit actions throughout its border with the Empire. So far, the losses had not been very serious. Small craft, mainly, up to and including light cruisers; so far, Terra had not yet committed their capital ships to battle.

The Fleet Tactics Section was sending status reports and updated attack scenarios to every ship almost daily. The Army was waiting for a possible invasion of the Terran Sphere.

With her division head killed in action, Varan had been promoted by Captain k’Jen to full commander, and his decision had been approved by the regional command. It put her in charge of the Weapons Division and all of the personnel, as well as making her part of the Kith’s command staff.

She still felt a bit troubled about how she’d earned the crossed swords that had been added to her rank flash.

The documentation was another matter entirely, and the greatest part of the burden of command. Personnel, training, and maintenance records had to be updated and summarized for the Captain and the Commander-Second, and she had to do inspections every shift. It was a lot of work, enough so that she didn’t have the leisure time to work on the last game module that Meredith had sent her.

Thinking of the mare was distracting, and the few times she had masturbated the vir had images of the palomino in her mind. It was physically satisfying, and she guessed that Meredith and her coworkers were safe, but she still worried about her.

A small icon on her padd pulsed, indicating an incoming message. She tapped it with a fingerclaw and it opened, identifying it as a summary of intercepted communications from an Imperial reconnaissance ship that had crossed the border. The ship’s mission was to penetrate into Terran space, hide, and listen; if found, it was to run as quickly as it could for safety.

Most of the report was completely routine, with the news that Terra’s Colonies had reconstituted their governing council aboard a starship for defensive purposes taking second priority to the fact that hyperspace beacons had been reactivated. Trade, it seemed, was more important to the Colonies than the advantage it could give either the Confed Fleet or the Azrin Kirfrelyatz. Varan skimmed the rest of the reports, pausing at an interesting item.

Anti-spinward from the reconnaissance ship’s position was a binary star system, with several planets orbiting the barycenter. One of those planets was within the viable region, and was apparently inhabited by Terrans. The report included a recording of the low-power message received from the colonists.

A tall cervid wearing faded and slightly tattered formalwear and a top hat stood in front of a collection of a dozen furs. Several, like the thickset simian femme in the white dress, appeared very uncomfortable. The deer in the top hat cleared his throat and spoke slowly in Terran Standard.

“This is, ah, Planet Tempest, and we’re the ruling council. We’re the descendants of the passengers and crew of the liner 'Tau Beta.' We crashed here . . . what?” He leaned over as one of the council members stepped forward and whispered urgently in his ear. The buck nodded. “Ah, yes, right. We’ve been here eighty-seven years, waiting for the solar flares to die down so we could try to communicate. If anyone can hear us, please respond.” He stood there, half-expecting an immediate reply, then looking uncertain as the seconds dragged by. The transmission hazed over with static and went dark.

The strategic and tactical analysis team aboard the recon ship had recorded the message, and had tagged it ‘No Action.’ A request was appended to pass the message on to the new Colonial government, which made sense to Varan. It would engender some goodwill with the Terrans who were distancing themselves from the core worlds.