Marshal Laurent's office was a constrictive study in imposing calm. Despite the relatively small space allotted even to someone of her stature, it was austerely clean in a way that made it seem cavernous. A single desk-projector, her chair and the Directorate flag on the wall were the only major objects inside. On her desk was a minimalist platinum heirloom of the Laurent family crest, a tiny concession to tradition in a state that should have long transcended it. A massive real viewport revealed the icy planet below in a disorienting spin, a luxury that underscored her supreme authority. The door was open, an invitation that felt more like a trap.
Sanchez paused at the threshold of the open door.
“You summoned me,” he remarked with a calm neutrality in his voice.
Laurent turned her gaze towards Sanchez, glacial eyes shifting subtly from the projections of Neuronet into real space.
"The review is complete, Vice Marshal. Your file presents a unique profile. A deep understanding of operational realities, tempered by recent field experience of an exceptionally complex nature."
She finally looked at him. Her gaze was like a sensor sweep. "That experience is a resource. One too valuable to sequester behind a desk."
Sanchez allowed a fraction of a respectful, confused smile. "With respect, Marshal, the strategic planning department cited a need for officers who understand the tactical implications of–"
"The planning department," Marshal Laurent interrupted, her voice still pleasant, "does not command the Delta Draconis sector fleet. I do."
She nodded her head. Instantly, a star map projected from her desk. The warm glow of Delta Draconis and the civilized systems of the nearby cluster hung on one end of the desk as a sea of transparent glowing orbs in space. Gamma Centauri was noticeably absent from the colonial map. It had already reverted from the green label of settled worlds to the light gray label of unsettled but habitable ones, just another one among a sea of similar worlds on the expansion list.
At the other end of the star map was a smattering of stars with only a few lit with the presence of Directorate worlds. Color scaling indicated a much lower population. A vast nebula billowed in the background, marking the effective edge of Directorate reach. Between them was a multi-parsec gulf of nothingness.
"You are to take command of the newly formed Task Force Sigma. The DF Vanguard will be your flag. Your mandate is to establish a persistent presence across the Eos subsector and enable rapid response to any crises in the fledgling colonies there. This is a complicated sector with mixed demographics, rumors of advanced xeno contact, and a great deal of… social instability. Your mission is to pacify the subsector and establish a long term patrol.”
Marshal Laurent let her worlds settle. Sanchez said nothing, not even daring to make eye contact with her, instead glaring at the floor with a fury that could melt the alloy.
"It's a frontier command. A proving ground for the next generation of flag officers."
Sanchez silently looked at the projected star chart again, staring at the chasm between their current shoreline of light and the rapid dimming of the population chart as the colonies approached the abyss of the nebula. The colonies on the edge seemed so fragile and dim, a tiny outcrop of humanity on the other side of the abyss. And further still, blotting out the galactic plane, lay the local edge of mapped space: the Eos cloud, a cold molecular nebula. It was a massive shadow in their vision, thousands of solar masses of hydrogen, ices and carbonaceous dust wisps, drifting silently through space and obscuring the rest of the galaxy behind it.
On the projected chart, the nebula was rendered as a translucent fog billowing just beyond the fragile lights of the last colonies, lit mostly by the false color of hydrogen UV fluorescence. Only a few known stars shone within its boundaries on the simulation, though it was undoubtedly lit by the lights of myriad more. It was a temporary guest in the galaxy, doomed to photoevaporation within a few millions of years.
“The Eos is a molecular cloud,” Marshal Laurent said, following his gaze. “Further interstellar travel is hazardous due to gas and dust ablation of frontal armor. It casts a long sensor shadow, making visibility beyond a few light-years impossible. We consider it the physical border. Lawlessness dominates here. There are some recently pacified xeno planets that have been troublesome. And there are rumors of advanced xeno contacts lurking behind the veil.”
A perfect place to get lost, Sanchez thought. Or to be lost.
Their target colonies were further labeled in green with a wordless command. They were a fragile outcrop of civilization in the desolate void, perilously close to the blinding shroud of gas and dust.
“Your new beachhead will be Epsilon Tau, our largest base of operations in the subsector. You will be half armed and refueled en route for a top speed of 0.08c to save dry mass, flip and burn, then fully armed and refueled at the local station for patrol in the cluster.”
Sanchez composed himself and gritted his teeth before eking out a question.
“This is an ambitious and complex mission exceeding the capabilities of a single or even a group of battlecruisers,” he replied with professional care.
“That is why you will be given additional tools for the job. Care to see your new flagship, Vice Marshal?”
Sanchez nodded passively.
Laurent gave another silent command to the projection desk. A floating model of the Vanguard filled the air. Sanchez had known the numbers: 70 by 100 by 780 meters, but knowing and seeing were different things. The Peacekeeper was an arrow of purpose. In contrast, the Vanguard was like a heavy polearm, its radiators hanging from the other end like the blades of an axe. Its broader beam spoke of interior space allocated to flag quarters and conference rooms; its extra length, a monument to bureaucratic inertia. It hung in the void as a cathedral rendered in the Directorate’s brutalist architecture, a blunt instrument of state that had somehow hauled itself across light years.
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"The Vanguard is a formidable platform," Sanchez said, his voice perfectly modulated and devoid of inflection. "It is a credit to the fleet."
"It is," Laurent agreed. "And it requires a commander who understands that threats can emerge from unexpected vectors."
She looked at him again with a blank, neutral smile.
“There are some problems that cannot be solved from orbit alone, Vice Marshal. We are additionally sending some assault carriers with atmospheric aircraft, investigators, frozen marines and synth troopers. You will escort them.”
Sanchez sighed. A babysitting mission at the edge of nowhere, he thought with sarcastic amusement. Almost as if she could read his mind, Marshal Laurent spoke up again.
“Reestablishing order is not a short term project, nor one for a blunt tool, Vice Marshal. It will require some finesse and flexibility. These are things that you claimed to possess, remember?”
Sanchez scarcely knew whether to laugh or cry as his bureaucratic maneuvering backfired. He straightened his face and composed himself.
“Yes. Understood, Marshal.”
Her eyes held his gaze for a half-second too long. "I am glad you understand the complexity of your mission. Dismissed, Vice Marshal."
The corridor outside Laurent's office was soundproofed by epoxy foam, reducing the impact of boots on the plating to a dull thud. Sanchez's footsteps in polished boots were forceful, but muffled. His rhythm was off, with each stride atypically stiff, almost like pistons driving him forward. His nostrils flared a little with each heavy breath. A junior officer, seeing Sanchez approach, instinctively flattened himself against the bulkhead, sensing not merely anger, but a radiating, focused fury so intense it distorted the space around him.
Sanchez did not blink until he reached the private officer's lift. The doors closed. Alone in the uneasy quietness, he exhaled. It was a slow, controlled venting of his lungs. He leaned his forehead against the cool metal wall for a few seconds. Then he straightened, his expression smoothing back into the calm, confident lines of a Vice Marshal. Indeed, a small smile appeared on his face as he realized that he had a rare window of opportunity: the chance to be rid of the entire troublesome truth with no questions asked.
The small, ceremonial window of the officer’s lift allowed him to see the metal frame of the habitat rush by. Synths buzzed around each vessel in a frenzy of activity. The white and blue planet hung large above him. In the distance, multiple tug plumes were visible escorting a colossal dark shape to its berth. The only thing that gave away the true scale of the vessel was the flicker of blinking LED warning lights at its bow and stern.
What lay after his elevator ride was the same metal room that they were debriefed in. There was no pretense of welcome here, only a simple carpet adhered to the floor with a magnetic podium at the front. His magboots stomped on the ice cold metal to the front, now making a loud clank with each step he took.
The entire Peacekeeper crew was standing there, 150 strong. Some were new faces, sent to replace the attrition they had suffered on their previous mission. There was never a shortage of new captains at every base to volunteer their lives to the interstellar fleet. There would always be more.
Sanchez stood at attention before clearing his throat. The crowd was what he lived for.
>Microphone, Sanchez commanded his implant. An affirmation lit up in his mind.
“For those of you who have not seen me before because you are new or because you slept through the last mission, I am Vice Marshal Sanchez.”
Some chuckled slightly. Sanchez smiled back and allowed for a few sparks of applause to settle.
“I commanded the Peacekeeper on your previous mission. It was an honor to serve you as your commander. As the new overall commander of Task Force Sigma, I will leave you, the Peacekeeper crew, in the capable hands of Colonel Grayson Joseph and Lieutenant Colonel Liu Yang.”
A warm round of applause echoed through the cavernous hall. Sanchez looked around. This time there were no marines and no MIA agents watching him. He was the former lord of this small domain in the void, now being promoted to royalty on a mobile microcosm of the Directorate itself. Grayson himself was enthusiastic. The only one who showed some hesitation was Liu.
“We are to embark on an important mission. The Directorate’s light has waned across the darkness of the frontier. We are to deploy across the rift and reignite the lamp of civilization. I will be on the Vanguard, just light minutes away, watching out for everyone and keeping us all safe on this important mission.”
Sanchez continued looking at Grayson and Liu. Liu turned his eyes ever so slightly to avoid his gaze. Grayson stared straight ahead.
“This is a mission of peace,” he said without the slightest hint of irony. “Without the beacon of the Directorate, humanity risks slipping into entropy and barbarism. We must rekindle the light. We are the Peacekeeper.”
Another round of applause. Sanchez’s eyes swept the room, meeting Liu’s for a fraction of a second. In that instant, the confident warmth vanished, replaced by something flat and final, the look of a man closing a ledger. Then it was gone.
“We must take on the most dangerous missions, and face the possibility of the greatest sacrifice, for the continued safety of humanity.”
He paused for a breath. The audience was ready.
“Your new commanding officers are experienced and have worked by my side for… well, it’s been a long time, and stasis scrambles the exact timeline,” he said with a slight chuckle. The junior officers joined him in stale laughter. “Let us welcome Colonel Grayson and Lieutenant Colonel Liu! They will serve as your commander and military auditor, respectively.”
Another round of applause. The crowd’s gaze focused on them like lasers. Grayson had no need for pretense as he smiled and reveled in the attention. Liu outwardly projected an air of quiet confidence, but his chest felt hollow.
“I now leave you in their capable hands. I will be speaking to you after the rendezvous in the outer solar system.”
Sanchez stepped off from the podium. The crowd parted for him, each officer raising their hand in salutation.
Liu looked at him with unease as the doors parted for him. Sanchez is up to something, Liu thought. It seems he has failed to get that desk job. What is his game?
His gaze slid to Grayson. The new commander’s face was a mask of stoic acceptance, but beneath it swam a machiavellian glee. It was the look of a master’s sadistic dominion over a servant. Liu shuddered that he would have to share command with this loathsome man.
>Initial mission files released. Lieutenant Colonel Liu Yang: military auditor and executive officer, DF Peacekeeper. Task Force Sigma. Embark in t = 24 hours.
Military auditor. He didn’t get the MIA serial number. He didn’t have the Savant gene, the MIA mandate or the black uniform. He couldn’t physically force anyone to obey him the way… she could. But he didn’t need these trappings of power.
His duty was far more mundane: ideological compliance, crew welfare and being second in command. But he has one thing Auditor-72-A9-M5 could never achieve in her wildest dreams: the trust of other humans.
