“Officers of Flight 7, we have gathered you here, brought you home, to brief you on the tragic outcome of Operation Blackbird, and the implications it has.”

The conference room is filled to the point of bursting, one third of all of Flight 7’s officers crowded in. They are seated by ship, all around the circular table, with Lawrence and other commanders at the head, and the officers of Haast, Njord, Skaoi, and Crow opposite him, others spread between. The mood in the room is somber, with none of the usual jokes being cracked, no spitballs flying across the table, or paper airplanes soaring above.

“As you will have no doubt heard, four days ago, Mul and Rak were sunk investigating an unidentified craft on the Yersian Sea. There were… no survivors. Heid, a Recon ship from Flight 5, Mul and Rak’s accompaniment on this mission, was able to disable the craft and take its crew captive. Our hearts go out to the friends and family of the women of the fallen ships,” And here Lawrence pauses to nod to Captain Joseph Mason, father of Rebecca Mason, the Navs Officer aboard Rak.

“We were able to determine that these men are Araneki, thanks to a Ptoki doctor who recognized the blood samples, and this is where the trouble really starts. Skaoi flew recon over Mettos, and has reported a mobilization of their military.”

And silence prevails.

People are shifting nervously in their seats, and the temperature’s dropped, and the table is wavering, and the lights are flickering, and doorknobs are rattling, and the floor is tilting, and hearts are racing.

And this is one of many reasons why it’s never a good idea to gather so many with potential in one place.

Lawrence stands. “Please,” he begins, and everything stops, as though it had never begun, Lawrence as always a calming presence. “Thank you. There has been no official declaration of war on either of these countries’ parts, and we have yet to receive word back from the ships running reconnaissance on Recha, Scalya, Cennan, and Gussia.”

“What ships are out there?”

“Pigeon-2, Biry-5, and Sif-7.”

“When was last contact with them?”

“When they received their orders, at which point they entered radio silence.”

“So they could have been sunk, or captured, and we have no way of knowing?”

“Center Center is keeping an eye on them.”

“Have we determined if Mettos and Aranek are in some sort of allegiance?”

“We didn’t notice any open hostilities between the two when we flew over.”

“No offense Captain, but that doesn’t mean much.”

“Has anyone been able to get anything out of the prisoners?”

“Not so far, but believe me when I say they’re putting every effort into it.”

Again, the room is silent as the officers consider this statement; Mason in particular seems to take a quiet joy in it, and not one of them can blame him; in fact, grim smiles appear to be the general consensus.

“So what do we do now?” Someone asks, and there is a pronounced perking up, because there is nothing the Fleet loves more than taking action; not one of these men and women is made for deliberation and careful consideration of options.

Lawrence grins, leaning forward, fists coming to resting on the table before him. “That’s why you’re here.”

Previous: Scene 6-VIII

Scene 6-IX

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