:: 29/12/2000 ::
As a change of pace, we docked in the Carrier. The massive construction bays amazed us. Sure, we'd seen some in holo-pictures of the Exodus, but this was a completely different sight. The huge mechanical arms and lasers used to build everything from a mere Probe to massive Frigate-class vessels surrounded us.
After the construction bay, there was the hangar. While the construction yard was open to the vacuum of space, the docking bay was behind a small access port at the back of the yards. In the enormous hangar, there were several places where a Fighter could land. To save space, however, as a Carrier can hold up to 50 fighters and 25 corvettes at a time, the hangar was divided into a sort of scaffold-like arrangement, with five floors to the bay.
Each floor could accommodate ten Fighters and five Corvettes. In this way, the Lazarus could devote an entire floor to accommodate our menagerie of ships: nine starfighters (including our seven Interceptors, Jacyn's Bloody Dagger, and the yet unused Turanic fighter,) and, although we had to cut back on space, our eight corvettes (Halo Squadron's six MGCs, the Black Runner, and the Apocalypse Treason.)
When I got out of the Multi-Gun corvette, I saw Nolan. He made a weak smile, and scratched his bushy moustache. "Hey," he said. "Hi," I replied. He looked down at the floor, and we walked towards the elevator shaft to reach the main floor of the hangar.
Willing to start up conversation, I said, "Sorry you couldn't be there. It was a hell of a mission." He shrugged. "That's OK. I'll just look at the recordings later." I nodded as I pressed the call button for the elevator.
Recording missions began in the very beginnings of the Exodus. What it involved was using several surveillance and sensors data from every ship in a mission to reconstruct the very battle (or otherwise) that was just in play. Using everything from radio and radar telemetry from allied ships, to visual feedbacks from the Fighters' and Frigates' cameras, usually aft and cockpit-based holo-recordings, to the main information of the surrounding space recorded by the flagship, like a Carrier, Intelligence operatives can create a complete and total holographic reconstruction of any skirmish.
This practice, widely used in patrolling missions of our space, has three useful benefits: first of all, it gives Fleet Intel a good look art the events of a battle, which allows them to analyse enemy fleet tactics and numbers; second, it is used to create historic holos to motivate Fleet rookies and the Hiigaran populace; most importantly, it is used to create simulator missions to train up-and-coming pilots. At the Fleet Academy, you aren't even allowed to see a starfighter unless you pass, that is, succeed, the first few missions of the Kushan Exodus. Teaching our new armada to do more with less is frustrating, but necessary, as well as rewarding, (and if you manage to survive the sims based off of the Great Nebula combats with honorary scores, you can get into most good squadrons in dangerous campaigns, like attacking key enemy outposts. I failed those missions, but I made up for it to get into this elite force.) Sure, a decent programming team could set up a simulator mission based on missions that had yet to be flown, but if you could fly a relevant, prefabricated mission that had been recorded earlier, that was perfect.
The doors opened, and we entered the elevator. I pressed for the ground level, and we continued talking. He said, "I did get to fly our ships over here, and that gave me a chance to look around the Lazarus. It's a hell of a ship." I nodded. The doors opened, and we walked over to where Captain Naabal and Commander Paktu were talking with Rear Admiral Soban.
Our captain turned to us. "Rear Admiral, this is Lieutenant Jake Sjet, and Colonel Nolan Hiilar. The lieutenant was the one who is responsible for this whole mission." I blushed. The admiral shook my hand, then Nolan's. He looked like most veteran admirals, short, pudgy around the waist, and owning a small crop of white hair on his otherwise baldhead. What did set him apart from most people I'd met was a tattoo he had on his forehead. It was the Soban crest, a T-shaped symbol with a sort of rectangle through the middle of it. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I haven't seen many people display their Kiith in that manner."
The old man laughed. "Yeah, I guess I'm a little old-fashioned. Back on Kharak we used to tattoo ourselves with our family symbols all the time. Of course, we were far more divided then." I nodded, showing my understanding. "Well, let's not talk here. You two must be tired. I'll show you to your temporary quarters."
Though without our personal stuff to help create the illusion of having our personal rooms, the quarters aboard the Lazarus were very accommodating. Due to the death of many of our wingmen, we were assigned to rooms differently than our usual roommates, which is why I was sharing a room with Nolan. Previously, we'd taken the grand tour of the Carrier, and saw everything from the bridge, to the brig, to the resource banks. It proved to be quite interesting. However, not as interesting as the revelation I was about to make.
I was talking to Nolan about my theories of Jacyn. "He's a mole?" he asked incredulously. I nodded solemnly. "He's been conning us all along. He's an ex-mercenary, remember? Maybe he's selling us out to the highest bidder. Maybe the Turanic."
He shook his head. "It can't be."
"Why not? At our first encounter with the Raiders, even though the Captain ordered us to stay with our wingmen, he left me to fry with those fighters, even though I helped him out a few times. After the battle, he made up some idiot excuse about my being below his rank, or something."
"But…"
"Then, he had to have gotten the Turanic fleet at the Dunari Nebula to notice our position. He was de-cloaked when he returned."
"You know, this is rather circumstantial evidence. Jacyn doesn't seem like the nicest guy, but he's no mole."
"Maybe, individually, these pieces of the puzzle are circumstantial. But when put all together, we're looking at a conspiracy."
Nolan pondered this. "You know…" he began. I looked at him. "What? What do you mean?" He spoke slowly. "I did notice something. When you guys were on your mission, I went exploring. The Troop Transport is pretty large, but I went through it pretty quickly…"
"Get to the point."
He stared at me with contempt. "Well, when I was looking through the ship's sensor logs, I noticed that Jacyn, or someone with his identi-chip, was taking a lot of visits to the Base's brig. I also saw that he had sent quite a few encrypted comm. messages to an unknown location. At the time, I thought he was just using the hypercomm to send personal messages, but…"
"Of course!" I said. "He was visiting the brig to speak with the Turanic prisoners, his co-conspirators, and he sent the squadron's destinations to the enemy forces. It all makes sense now! But, why did you stay quiet? Why didn't you inform the captain that he was making "illegal personal calls?"
He looked at the floor. "Well, the thing is that I had also made some personal calls, so I didn't want attention to be in that area…"
I ran to the view port in our room. I saw stars. We were still in real space. I checked my chrono. "When do we enter hyperspace?" He checked his chrono, and reported, "In about fifteen minutes."
"Then there's still time." I called up the computer panel in the room. I tapped in "LOCATE: FLT. OFF. NAABAL, JACYN." The computer scanned the ship for Jacyn's identi-chip, which is grafted onto every Fleet member for easy identification. It replied, "IDENTITY NOT FOUND. CURRENT LOCATION IN FLEET LAZARUS IS ON TROOP TRANSPORT ANGEL BASE."
I raced to the hangar. Nolan called after me, "Where are you going?" I called back, "To do something I should have done a long time ago."
I was able to get my Interceptor to fly me to the TT in practically no time. I raced down to Engineering to talk to one of the only men still onboard. "Tetral!" The greasy engineer craned his head to look at me. "Yuh?"
"Where is Jacyn?"
"Funny you mention. He just came by. Asked where the main power core was."
I raced out and down a series of halls to get to the core. As I opened one of the doors on my way, I came face-to-face with one of the Turanic prisoners. The large bug creature was clutching a hand-laser, and as I reached for my own it shot me in the arm. I fell to the ground, hit with the sudden pain of the burn. I looked up at my assailant. It aimed its gun at my head, so I just pulled the trigger of mine. It blew a hole through one of its eyes. It slumped over onto me, spewing green blood from its wound. It shoved it away, and looked down at where the gun shot through my pocket, which was smoking.
I was more alert as I continued. Who knew how many more prisoners the conspirator released to stop me. Well, he had another thing coming. I finally came to the large power core, which lay at the heart of the ship, pulsing with power. Though the room was dimly lit, I could distinctly see Jacyn at the foot of it, working on something that looked like…
A bomb!
I ran to him, as he was whispering, "Almost there…" I tackled him. "Nice try, you bastard!" As I did so, I could clearly hear him yell, "What the hell are you doing?" I held him down as he was trying to writhe free.
"Stopping you, it seems!"
He stopped moving when a tone sounded, possibly from the bomb. "You idiot! Do you realise what you've done?"
Before I could answer, a white flash and a sudden jolt knocked me unconscious.
