October 29th 3301 – Balandin Gateway

When the Federal fleet, sent to secure AF Leporis from Imperial expansion, returned at Gresley Dock – Nanomam’s busiest starport – everything went on quietly. It was as if nothing of particular interest had happened, instead of an unbecoming event that to many, was more akin to a funeral. Pilots met the crowd with pride, but despite the embraces, the firm handshakes and military salutes, it was the awful silence and marks of disbelief on their faces that stood out. President Hudson himself had decided to remain silent on the matter. Perhaps that was because for a sizeable portion of his followers, it was an enormous campaign that had been lost; one that according to some estimates had siphoned not only three billion credits, but the morale of the Republican Party as well.

The next morning however, presented a different spectacle altogether.

It was around 2 AM when Rhea Space Traffic Control issued a traffic advisory to its usual customers, stating that docking services at Balandin Gateway would be momentarily suspended for the entire morning due to non-disclosable reasons, a frequent occurrence in the region. While the uninformed visitors were lining up outside the station, an enormous crowd had gathered at the docking bays, filling the conning towers.

“My wife woke me up in the middle of the night; it was around 3 A.M.” recalls Maximilian Levy, inhabitant of the orbis starport and spouse of captain Wenjun Levy. “She got a call from the Federal Rapid Response Unit and in a matter of minutes, she was wearing her Navy uniform and left. Nothing unusual up to that point. It’s part of her job. When I arrived at the observation deck to wave goodbye, I was faced with a much larger group of family members than I had ever encountered. You can just imagine how anxious people were. There was absolutely zero announcement or explanation for what was happening. It seemed even the crew of the starport were caught by surprise. Then I looked up, and saw that the exact same thing was happening on every single landing pad.”

At exactly 5 am, a siren echoed inside the docking bay, after which six Anaconda-class war-rigs simultaneously took off, ever so slowly lining up with the station mailslot while countless supporting vessels were emerging from all corners of the docking corridor. It was an emotional experience for those on the platforms, as the thundering roar of so many engines caused vibrations that were felt as far as the rings.

“It was an incredible display of sounds, lights and might. Even the cry of the babies could barely make it to our ears. Each Anaconda left with its army of ships…Pythons, Asses (you know that’s our local vernacular for Assault Ships), Lances and Vultures flying and rolling so close to each other. And when the frigates sounded their horn as they were leaving…it was really spectacular, I mean, I’ve seen big departures but this one was the greatest by far. I think everyone was proud to have some member of its family inside those ships.”

As each vessel crossed the airlocks, crew members took the opportunity to salute the Federal flag as well as Felicia Winters herself, standing in the control tower amid her circle of fleet admirals: a customary farewell that bolsters the morale of everyone, and a sign that an important mission was about to begin. Donald Cooper, RNN military correspondent, was aboard the USS Heisenberg, under the direct command of captain Wenjun Levy. He was on the bridge of the fully equipped Anaconda frigate, taking in the solemn gaze each and every crew member directed towards the control tower.

“It’s a very uplifting moment.” commented the captain. “It cements that deep sense of belonging to the same family, whether we’re a Republican or a Liberal. Wherever we go, no matter how deeply dangerous things will turn out, we know we’ll have her compassionate attention. It matters a lot to us.” As the nose of the ship entered the access corridor and bright blue lights were filling the deck, Wenjun Levy howled loud and clear, in her martial tone: “For the Federation!”, to which in unison the crew roared back with the same catchphrase, with equal enthusiasm, all the while staring resolutely at their leader… perhaps for their last time.

Standard operating procedures dictates that patrols, whether in a local or regional scale, must begin by low waking into supercruise in order to assess the situation within the solar system as well as making the fleet’s presence evident to traffic controllers. This time, however, orders were given to set a direct course deep into Imperial territory, and although no specifics on the nature of the operation were articulated, everybody knew what this was all about. Senior political analyst and RNN correspondent Roy McKlintoch comments:

“Since we had won a good prep race (cf Kappa), not everyone was terribly disappointed when we heard we had lost Leporis. But obviously, some of our strategists and more particularly our corporate magnates were upset. Our Republican fellows had a very grim look on their faces; they were probably thinking of all the Imperial gloating that their media would throw at us (which by the way they didn’t, and that was very honorable from them). Anyways, Winters was with the President over the comms and it was kind of funny how she seemed so stoic while Hudson was rambling on and on. Once the pep talk had ended, they immediately switched their attention to what could be done. And there was only one thing that could be done: pay our respect to the Imperials… with hard power.”

“Everybody here follows what Hudson does” explained Captain Levy while her Anaconda was warming up its drives. “When we heard the bad news, we were all expecting a call to arms from the ICC. It happened, and we were glad. We do this because we’re good at it. We do this because in times where the Empire grows stronger and keeps threatening our borders, there is no time for bickering. Lavigny played her cards well, and her followers did a great job, but it’s about time we teach them that nobody takes Leporis without our permission. Our gift to the Emperor will be a ticket to turmoil.”

After a series of jumps, the fully-assembled fleet finally reached the borders of Federal Space undetected, in the Mehudi sector. After the sights of friendly systems filled with vibrant and bright stars had been left behind, it was time to cross the DMZ, a thin stretch of political void that separates both superpowers and houses unhealthy regimes (if not utterly anarchic) along with a gloomy cluster of brown dwarfs: an infamous place commonly referred to as “the crimson river”.

“That moment when all of a sudden we embrace the reality that we are now fair game for hunters, when shadows and gloomy red lights slowly slide inside the bridge as we cross the river, that’s when it feels like we’ve become a pack of wolves, hunting in the middle of the night.”

Thanks to NailZ and Massey