AN: 16 Advanced Chapter available on my Patreon! Crimson_Reapr is the name, and writing Scifi is the way. ---
Aboard the IUC Transport Vessel T-103 Macross
"Alright, everyone, begin docking procedures," said Alberto Salazar, the captain of the T-103 Macross, the IUC transport vessel that had been dispatched to pick up the survivors of the IUC research vessel, the Vanguard Horizon.
A few minutes later, the Macross was docked, and her crew was ready to stretch their legs for a little while. The two IUC escort Corvettes stayed a little bit behind, since this was supposed to only be a simple grab-and-go operation, with only a few hours to spare for the transport crew to roam the station if they wanted to.
"Ok, let's see, you all have four hours to do as you please in the station," Alberto said to his crew as they all stood in the bridge. "But before that, I want you all to get the situation sorted for the transport of the survivors...You're all dismissed."
The crew broke into quiet chatter as their boots echoed off the deck while they filtered out of the bridge. Salazar exhaled, rolling his shoulders and glancing toward the forward viewport where the station's internal lighting bathed Docking Bay 11Z in a sterile glow. It was a gloomy place, a mismatch of new and old plating from patches all around it.
He was about to turn toward his seat when his XO's voice cut through the hum of systems. "Captain, you might want to come take a look at this."
Lieutenant Commander Imani Zhao stood over the central command console, her brow furrowed as the faint blue light from the holo-projector flickered across her sharp features, reflecting data in her eyes.
Salazar's boots clanged softly as he crossed the deck toward her. "What've we got?"
Imani gestured to the terminal. "This encrypted burst just came through the station's internal net. From what I can tell, it's an anonymous relay with a masked origin. However, it's flagged under our mission codes, which means someone went out of their way to make sure whatever it is reached us."
Salazar frowned, leaning over the console. "That's interesting. Pull it up."
The holographic display expanded, showing lines of compressed text, station transmission tags, and video logs. Grainy surveillance footage timestamped almost 3 days ago showed a tall figure in matte armor with red dots and red fur being surrounded by a cluster of men. A fight broke out between the two parties before the armored man gained the upper hand. Muzzle flashes then lit the screen for about 40 seconds before energy bolts slammed into the shooters, and the chaos ended. The armored man stood still in the aftermath, smoke curling through the air.
The next files were copies of internal messages that had been pulled straight from the station council's private channels. Of those messages, a few key names stood out immediately: Council Member Theodore Birignan, Station Security Command, and the ship with the designation Strathos' Shepherd.
Imani's lips tightened. "This seems like a lot of evidence."
Salazar's eyes narrowed. "So this… guy? He's being held for defending himself."
"Looks like it." She flicked through the documents. "The messages show Birignan ordered the seizure before the security report was even written. He's pushing to have the man detained indefinitely until he can 'reallocate the asset.' That asset being his ship."
Salazar straightened slowly, his jaw moving as if he had a piece of food stuck between his teeth. "Well, that tracks. A ship like that? Even I'd be tempted."
Imani gave him a side glance. "Sir?"
He tilted his head toward the viewport, the transport ship's transparent canopy, to their right, where a dark silhouette gleamed under the station's bay lights. Its sleek and angular hull plating and clean lines, which looked more military than civilian, were accented by its golden and red hues, marked Strathos' Shepherd.
Salazar let out a low whistle. "Now that's a beauty. You can tell just from here that it's got a fresh hull with unscored plating and not a single hint of patchwork. That thing's either brand new or refitted top-to-bottom. And just look at her railguns, they look like they belong on a cruiser."
Imani crossed her arms as she looked at her captain. "Yeah, but that doesn't justify stealing it."
"No, it doesn't," Salazar said. "But it does a good job at explaining the motive." He paused for a second as he looked back at the console. "The question is, who the hell sent this to us? These aren't just surface files. This is internal traffic between the council and station command, meaning that the sender had access to their net."
"Maybe a disgruntled insider?" she offered.
"Yeah, it has to be. Someone who wants to make sure the truth doesn't get buried." He rubbed at his chin in thought. "I mean, and it landed right when we docked. I wouldn't dare to call that convenient timing."
Imani leaned closer to the screen. "Captain, there's more. The sender added a data tag referencing the Vanguard Horizon survivors. It says that the detainee is Mark Shephard, the man who rescued them."
That made Salazar pause. "You're kidding."
She shook her head. "No. Whoever sent this knows we're here to pick them up and should have some information on the Navy's request for him to come with us."
Salazar drew a long breath, then exhaled through his nose. "Alright. That's enough to get the IUC interested. Ren Varis doesn't like his people being wronged, and he definitely doesn't like corruption that touches IUC ops and their allies."
Imani gave a humorless laugh. "Birignan's just signed his own execution order."
Salazar smiled faintly. "Yeah, most likely. Let's confirm that all of this information is true before we storm in there with accusations. I also want to hear it from the survivors themselves, what they think of their rescuer."
The corridor outside the bridge was narrow, illuminated by the ship's soft white track lighting. The hum of the ship's reactor was a steady pulse beneath their feet as Salazar and Imani made their way down toward the mid-deck, where the survivors had been temporarily quartered.
It had been almost 30 minutes since the Macross had docked, and the rescued women had already been transported into the ship. As they walked, the hatch before them slid open to a makeshift rec area where the rescued women sat in small clusters, some quietly talking while others were simply staring out the small observation panels at the station. They looked fine, healthy even, though they were not wearing their standard issue uniform; instead, they were dressed in the standard gray coveralls the Macross crew had issued them.
A medic nodded to the Captain as he entered. "Captain Salazar. They're all doing well. Physically, at least."
"Good," he said. "I need to speak with a few of them. Keep it informal."
The medic stepped aside, and Salazar moved to where a few of the women were gathered near the far wall. Imani followed, a tablet in hand.
"Ladies," Salazar began, his tone calm and reassuring. "I'm Captain Alberto Salazar, commanding officer of the IUC T-103 Macross, the transport vessel we're currently in. We'll be taking you to Base B-147, located a few systems from here in the Xendor System, but before that, I need to ask a few questions about the man who brought you here."
There was a brief silence before one of the women, a brunette, nodded. "Mark Shephard?"
Salazar nodded. "That's right."
She exchanged glances with the others before speaking again. "Well, I don't really know what you want to know. He saved us, that's pretty much it. If it weren't for him, we'd still be in the hands of those pirates, probably being sold off as sex slaves by now, or something."
Another woman chimed in, her voice trembling but sincere. "He was quiet most of the time. Kind of intense. He didn't really talk about himself much, but… he treated us decently. He pretty much gave us free rein aboard his ship, fed us, and made sure we slept comfortably."
A third one leaned forward, frowning slightly. "He was… off, though. Not in a bad way, just, I don't know, kind of different. Like he was holding something back. You could tell he's probably seen some shit."
Salazar nodded, taking it in. "And aboard his ship? Anything unusual?"
They shared small looks, and the first woman smiled faintly. "It was beautiful. Like it had just come out of a shipyard. Everything was spotless, brand new, and it was so luxurious on the inside. I think it easily puts any of the accommodations on any Navy vessel to shame. The rooms had games, showers, and even a small lounge."
"Thank you," Salazar said, giving them a nod of reassurance. "That's all I needed for now."
As they turned to leave, one of the women called out after him. "Why are you asking for information on him anyway? Is something going on?"
Salazar stopped for a second, then looked back. "No, everything's alright. There was just a little misunderstanding, and I wanted to satiate some of my own curiosities."
Outside the compartment, the door slid shut behind them, sealing off the faint murmur of voices.
Imani walked beside him in silence for a while before saying, "Well, it seems like they're all telling the same story."
"Yeah." Salazar's tone was dry. "It seems like he is a good man, even if he has some secrets, but so does everyone else."
They made their way toward the docking corridor linking the Macross to the station. The transparent tunnel arched out from the ship's flank, giving them a clear view of the bay. Next to them, the Strathos' Shepherd gleamed under floodlights.
Salazar slowed, resting his hand against the railing. "You can tell she's built to take a punch. The angularity of her hull is not commonly seen, wastes too much space that could otherwise be allocated for other systems." He then brought a device to his eyes and scanned the Shepherd. "I don't see any serials on the outer panels, meaning she's probably not a junker or some black-market retrofit. Whoever built her knew their stuff."
Imani looked at the vessel. "So you agree with Birignan that she's worth the trouble to steal?"
He chuckled under his breath. "Maybe. But wanting something and being entitled to it are two different things."
They stood there a moment longer, watching crews move along the scaffolds around the ship. Salazar's reflection stared back at him from the glass, his uniform crisp, the rank insignia gleaming faintly against the light.
Finally, he turned away. "Alright. Let's go meet our bureaucrats."
"Wait up," a feminine voice called out behind them. They turned to see as one of the rescued women jogged their way, joining them. "I don't know what's going on, but if it has something to do with Mark, then I have to come."
Salazar was about to deny her when Imani spoke. "And why is that? You know him better than the other girls?"
Marie took a deep breath before speaking. "Yeah, I'd say so. He spoke more with me than he did with the rest of them altogether. If he trusts any of us, then it should be me."
Salazar looked at Imani and then back at Marie and shrugged. "Sure, you can tag along."
The interior of Eidolon Reach Station was colder than he expected. The air recycling systems hummed overhead, casting a faint vibration through the metal decking and signs marked directions to "Security Administration – Level 4."
They passed through two checkpoints, showing their IUC credentials each time. The station officers were polite enough, though the atmosphere had shifted since their arrival, with clearly faked tight smiles and curt replies. By the time they reached the detention sector, the mood had almost turned oppressive. Two armed guards stood at the entrance to the corridor, eyes tracking them warily.
Imani handed over their identification. "Captain Alberto Salazar and Lieutenant Commander Zhao, IUC Transport Vessel Macross. We're here on official business regarding a detainee, Mark Shephard."
One of the guards scanned the badge and frowned. "You're gonna want to talk to Lieutenant Strall. He's in charge of the case."
"Perfect," Salazar said. "We'll do just that."
They followed a guard down a narrow hall lined with reinforced cells, who only had a single door to enter them. The lights buzzed faintly overhead and flickered every once in a while.
At the far end, a door opened into a decently sized administrative office where Lieutenant Harven Strall sat at a terminal, tapping through reports. He looked up as the trio entered: the captain, his XO, and Marie, who towered over the two.
Strall rose from his chair, recognition flickering in his eyes. "Captain Salazar, I assume?"
"Correct," Salazar said, offering a brief handshake. "Lieutenant Harven Strall, station security?"
"That'd be me." Strall glanced toward Marie, then back to Salazar. "What can I do for you?"
Salazar stepped closer to the desk and dropped a small data chip onto it. "You can start by explaining this."
Strall frowned, picking it up and sliding it into his console. The holographic display lit up with Birignan's messages, the surveillance footage, and a timestamped order of seizure for Mark's ship. His jaw tightened as he scrolled.
Imani crossed her arms. "We received this about an hour ago, encrypted through your own network. Whoever sent it had a certain level of clearance within your own governing parties."
Strall's expression was unreadable, but his tone was low. "So someone upstairs finally grew a conscience."
"So it's true," Salazar said flatly.
Strall gave a grim nod. "Yeah. Every word of it. Councilor Birignan's been gunning for that ship since the inspection, and he only got an excuse to get his hands on it with everything that went down regarding Mark Shephard. I've been ordered to keep Shephard contained until further notice. I would say that you're a lucky bunch to have gotten your hands on this before it was all scrubbed."
Marie stepped forward. "He saved our lives. The least you can do is make sure they don't steal his ship. Hell, it was fully built by him and his friend." Marie's hand shot to cover her mouth as she let the last bit slip. It had been something Mark had entrusted her with and had asked her not to mention to anyone else. That and how long it took to make, and she had already let her promise slip.
Strall looked at her for a long moment, his brows raised, then sighed. "Miss, I don't make the rules here. I only enforce them and try to keep people alive while the politicians tear each other apart."
Salazar's hand gripped the edge of the Strall's desk as he leaned forward. "Well, Lieutenant, as of right now, this isn't just station politics. This is an IUC matter. The man in your cell is under our protection, and I've got evidence of a council member attempting to unlawfully detain a Navy-associated civilian."
Strall studied him carefully. "You planning to make it official?"
Salazar smiled without humor. "You bet your ass I am."
The two men stood there, the low hum of the station filling the silence. Finally, Strall deactivated the screen and met his eyes.
"Alright, then," he said quietly before looking down and working his console. After a few seconds, he looked back up at them. "I set up an appointment with Councilor Birignan. Follow me, we have to make a quick stop and pick someone up."
He turned toward the door, the faint hiss of the pressure seals releasing as it opened. The corridor beyond glowed dimly under emergency lights.
Salazar glanced back at Imani and Marie. "Let's see how deep this rabbit hole goes."
They followed Strall down the hall, past the reinforced cells and humming dampeners, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the cold composite floor as they headed straight toward the man who had unknowingly set a political storm in motion.
---
Mark lay bored on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling, when he heard the sound of multiple sets of footsteps overlapping each other as they approached his cell. "Strall, you got some company with you this time around?"
Strall activated the terminal outside of Mark's cell, causing its door to slide open with a soft hiss. "Come on, Shephard. We're going to meet with the one holding your neck on the chopping block."
Mark sat up on the bunk and stared at Strall, ensuring that he wasn't playing any games with him. Behind him stood a man who would've been classified as Hispanic back on Earth and a woman with asian features. He stood up, dwarfing everyone the moment he did. "IUC Navy personnel. I do remember telling you that the Navy doesn't like having their benefactors wrapped up in bullshit the other day."
Strall chuckled. "You did. Now put your hands in front of you. Though I already know how this will end, I can't allow someone who is still technically a prisoner to wander around without any restraints."
Imani looked Mark head to toe before asking, "You let him keep his armor?"
Strall simply shrugged as he turned to look back at her and pulled the cuffs. "It's nanotech, nothing we can really do about it but put him in a room with electronic dampeners. He also didn't give us any trouble during or after the arrest, so I didn't see a reason to bother with it."
Mark obliged and put his hands in front of him. The same magnetic cuffs that had been placed on him three days ago were once again placed on his wrists. He then followed Strall out of the cell and got a better look at the two Navy officers before noticing a third, taller figure standing by the door. "Not how you imagined meeting me again, is it?"
Marie let out a soft chuckle. "No, no, it isn't. But we still haven't formally exchanged information, so I guess it works."
Salazar gave them a glance. "You two seem very buddy-buddy."
Mark scoffed. "Right, we bonded over our height and love for engineering in just three days."
Imani tilted her head at the remark. "Right, she did mention that you and a friend of yours were the ones who made your ship."
Mark's eyes narrowed as his head slowly turned to face Marie.
"Slip of the tongue," Marie said as she scratched the back of her head.
Strall walked past them and led the way down the dimly lit corridor in silence. They stopped and waited momentarily for three other station security officers to join them, one of them being Sergeant Veln, his rifle slung low but ready.
"Sergeant Veln," Strall said quietly without turning, "I only need you and your men to escort us."
"Yes, sir."
Mark kept pace behind Strall, his hands cuffed and his expression unreadable. Marie walked beside him, stealing glances that he mostly ignored, as his eyes subconsciously scanned his surroundings, something that Salazar noticed. It was as if Mark had some sort of trained alertness due to his deliberate calm.
They took an elevator to the upper levels, the doors closing with a low hiss. Inside, the hum of the gravity compensators was the only sound before the elevator announced their arrival: "Level 2: Administration and Governance."
The doors slid open into a wider corridor that was much cleaner than the others, with polished floors and lighting panels that held a warmer tone to them. The walls bore banners of the Station Council with an emblem of a stylized starburst. Guards stood every twenty meters, their weapons holstered as they tracked the approaching group.
"Councilor Birignan's office is just up ahead," Strall said.
Mark was a little taken aback when they reached the meeting chamber, since it wasn't as grand as one might expect from a man like Birignan. It wasn't the typical high ceilings with marble floors, just a functional space wrapped in corporate minimalism. The only indulgence was the panoramic viewport looking out over the station's outer hull and the distant glow of the gas giant below.
Councilor Theodore Birignan stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back. He was a short man, maybe 5 feet 6 inches, dressed in a tailored gray suit with a silver insignia pinned to his lapel. His hair was slicked back, and his expression held a fake sense of civility.
"Lieutenant Strall," Birignan said without turning. "I was not informed that you were bringing guests."
"Councilor," Strall began, his tone tight, "this is Captain Alberto Salazar of the IUC Navy. He was originally here to pick up the survivors of a pirate attack, but has not extended his stay due to the situation regarding a detainee."
At that, Birignan turned, his eyes sliding across the group, pausing briefly on Mark, then Marie, before settling on Salazar. "Ah, yes. The good captain. I was told you'd be retrieving the survivors. But as Lieutenant Strall stated, you seem to have taken an… extracurricular interest in my station's affairs."
Salazar stepped forward, hands clasped calmly behind his back. "You detained a civilian that the Navy has a debt to without due process, Councilor. You're the one who turned this matter into military affairs and my jurisdiction."
Birignan smiled faintly, a politician's smile that was polished and hollow. "You misunderstand. The detainee in question has violated multiple security protocols, resisted inspection, and-"
"Oh, cut the bullshit, will you?" Salazar interrupted, his tone calm but razor-sharp. "We've seen the surveillance logs, Councilor. He never resisted any inspection and only defended himself."
Birignan's expression faltered. "I don't know what you think you've seen, Captain."
Imani stepped forward and activated her tablet, projecting the holographic playback of the incident, which consisted of the footage of Mark's fight in the docking level and the internal messages ordering the seizure of his ship before any investigation had been conducted. The evidence filled the air with cold blue light, flickering across Birignan's face.
Salazar waited until it ended before he spoke again. "You ordered his arrest, seized his ship, and attempted to classify it as station salvage. You bypassed due process, ignored Navy jurisdiction, and falsified records. That's not a misunderstanding, Councilor. That's outright corruption."
Birignan drew a slow breath through his nose, then exhaled, walking to his desk. "You're playing a dangerous game, Captain. You may wear the Navy's colors, but this is my station. And on my station, I decide what constitutes due process."
Salazar tilted his head slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Then you're about to learn how little your station means to me, or to Command. Because when I report this, the IUC's sanctions will make sure no hauler, no trader, and no civilian convoy so much as refuels here again. You know as well as I do that if the Navy wants, then your seventh generation will still be paying for the fine print, Councilor."
The room went quiet, and Strall glanced between them, his jaw tight. Even Veln's fingers twitched near his weapon. Birignan's composure cracked once again, just enough for the sweat to gather at his temple.
"You're bluffing," Birignan said at last.
Salazar leaned forward on the desk. "Are you willing to find out if I'm bluffing or not?"
A long silence tensed the air until finally, Birignan looked away. "Fine. You want him, take him. I'll clear the detainment order and restore access to his vessel. But you and your people will leave immediately afterward."
Salazar straightened, his smirk fading. "You'll find that acceptable terms are rare these days, Councilor. I suggest you take this as mercy."
Birignan didn't answer, simply turning away and walking back toward the viewport, the gas giant's reflection casting pale light across his face.
Salazar nodded once to Strall. "Get it done."
Strall didn't even hesitate, tapping his wrist console and sending the release orders through the station's system. The sound of confirmation chirped faintly in the silence. He then released Mark from his cuffs.
"Come on," Salazar said to his group. "We're done here."
"No, we're not," Mark said as he rubbed his wrists and walked up to Birignan. The man turned around only for his eyes to widen as Mark was already upon him.
"Listen here, you little shit," Mark said, his left hand gripping Birignan's right shoulder. He then leaned in and spoke to him, loud enough for no one else to hear. "There is so much I have found out about you, all the dirty shit you've done, the people you've had disappear, and your control over the less civil business of the station to keep yourself in power. What do you think will happen to you if that information ever reaches any of the other counselors?"
Counselor Birignan's face paled, and his eyes widened with fear. "How do you know?"
"Shephard, what are you doing!?"
"Mark!"
Mark ignored the calls for him and smirked at the man. "You don't need to know that. I just want to let you know that since you fucked with me, I'm going to fuck with you too. This ought to knock you down a peg or two."
Mark then smacked Counselor Birignan, causing a few teeth to fly out, and the guards who had burst through the door and were rapidly approaching to pull out their weapons and shout at Mark. "Put your fucking hands up!"
Birignan stumbled to get up from the floor, using the edge of the viewport to help himself up. "Stop! Leave!"
The guards were confused by the counselor's orders and froze. "I said leave, damnit! Don't you idiots understand? Want me to spell it out for you? L. E. A. V. E."
The guards turned to each other in shock but lowered their weapons and obeyed their orders.
"Is that enough?" Birignan asked Mark. "Are you satisfied?"
Mark scowled at him. "Not even fucking close... but it'll have to do for now."
He then turned for the door, walking past a frozen Salazar and Imani, and a slack-jawed Marie and Strall. He paused as he reached the door and turned back to face Birignan, who was massaging his jaw. "You'd better learn to know who you can and who you can't fuck with. Otherwise, it won't end with just a few missing teeth."
Once he was out in the corridor, the others left their shocked state, and Marie, Imani, and Salazar joined Mark, who broke the silence. "Tell me something, Captain. You really got the authority to slap sanctions on a place like this?"
Salazar's lips were still slightly agape as he looked up at Mark. "I- uh- what? Hell no."
Mark chuckled under his breath. "Thought so."
"Are we not going to address what just took place?" Salazar questioned as they stepped into the elevator, "You just smacked the shit out of one of the station's counselors, and he defended you from his own guards after trying to pin you for a crime you were innocent of."
Mark smirked at him. "Fear of consequences, when they make themselves known, allows for quite a bit of leeway. Sometimes it's the only language bureaucrats understand."
They made their way back in the docking sector in silence. The atmosphere had become lighter as they had walked. It all felt almost serene compared to the political theater they'd just walked through.
As they approached the boarding corridor, Strall slowed. "I'll see to it your record's cleared on the station side," he said to Mark. "You shouldn't have to deal with this again... though after what you did..."
Mark stopped, turning to face him fully. The two men locked eyes. "You did your job," Mark said quietly. "But here's some advice, Lieutenant. You keep hiding behind procedure, one day, you're gonna die for nothing. Grow a pair. Stand for something, or the next bastard like Birignan will own you before you even realize it. I also don't plan on ever returning to this sector of space."
Strall didn't answer, and Mark nodded once, then turned away and started down the corridor toward his ship, Marie following close behind.
Salazar and Imani watched him go before he came to a stop to chat with Marie. Salazar exhaled and looked back toward Strall. "He's right, you know."
Strall didn't look away from Mark as he spoke. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I know."
Mark and Marie finished exchanging contact information before he went on and boarded the Shepherd, the bay lights dimming as the ship's engines powered up, their low, thunderous vibration rolling through the floor.
Salazar, Imani, and Marie left Strall alone and went to board their transport ship as the Shepherd disengaged from the dock, rotating gracefully until her prow faced the open black beyond and started heading to where the two Navy Corvettes were waiting.