Jennifer Wells - Beyond the Stars - At Galaxy's Edge

“I know, but...” All they had to do was obtain a starship‌—‌how hard could that be? The IES had acquired a wide variety of vehicles throughout its four-year life, though most of those had been temporarily commandeered to respond to a crisis, and either the vehicles themselves‌—‌or, occasionally, compensation for them‌—‌had to be returned afterward.

But who was going to bother them to return one of the hundreds of inactive vessels Arriet claimed were in orbit?

“JP,” Brook said. “The IES can legally commandeer ships, right?”

JP inclined his head. “In times of emergency, that is correct, yes.”

Brook flicked a look back toward the detention center. On the roof was a police transport shuttle. “I’d say the dismantlement of the IES is a pretty serious emergency.”

JP looked uncertain. Could he be warming up to the idea? “That is an... unusual, but plausible interpretation, Captain.” His gaze followed hers. “In any case, we would only be able to petition the Emergency Service to contest the order if we acquired a ship large enough to allow us to continue our interstellar operations.”

“Well,” Brook said, “I have it on good authority that there are ‘hundreds’ of those ships in orbit around Meltia. I could get there‌—‌if only I had someone to handle the paperwork.”

She spread her arms to indicate that she had nothing to hide. This plan was audacious‌—‌but ultimately completely legal. If JP was willing to rethink his departure.

“I believe,” JP said, “that such a task would fall under the purview of your political liaison officer.”

Brook grinned. “Then you’d better tell him that we don’t have all day.”

She dashed back to the glass doors of the detention center, throwing one open with her left hand while she grabbed her IES transceiver with her right.

“We’re with the IES,” she said to the nearest police officer as she sent a query to Arriet. “We’re going to need to borrow your ship.”

The officer gave her a confused look. “Didn’t you just‌—‌”

JP produced his IES identification. “Sir, under section one of the Emergency Services Act, personnel of the Meltian Republic Emergency Service, or any sub-organization thereof‌—‌”

“Okay, okay!” The officer raised his arms. “Follow me.”

The three of them stomped up a staircase to arrive on the roof of the detention center, where the officer unlocked the transit shuttle and beckoned them inside. He made a move to enter the cockpit of the vehicle, but Brook held up a hand. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Of course, Ma’am. Good luck.” The police officer departed.

At the same time, Arriet picked up Brook’s query, so she tossed the transceiver to JP as she strapped herself into the pilot’s seat. “Put it on the ship’s sound system.”

Brook was no pilot‌—‌her job was to give orders to the people who actually flew the Kindred Spirit ‌—‌but the transport was designed for non-pilot police officers, with a standard throttle-and-stick setup, so she was quickly able to ease it off the ground.

“Captain?” Representative Arriet’s voice came out of the transport’s consoles.

“Representative.” Brook angled the transport’s nose upward and pushed the throttle forward. “About those ships you mentioned: where can we find them?”

“I was referring to the Boneyard,” Arriet said.

“Right.” The name conjured images of Interplanetary Network broadcasts from just after the Order War, showing thousands of no longer needed vessels being clustered into a massive orbital shipyard over Meltia for storage. “JP can you get me coordinates on that?”

“Likely,” he said.

“Captain, I don’t know what you’re planning, but you’ll need to do it quickly. We drafted the order to dismantle the IES this morning and submitted it to our administrative staff for documentation and distribution. It could be delivered to the headquarters of the Emergency Service at any minute.”

“I know,” Brook said. “JP told me. Is there any way we could stop the order after it’s been delivered?”

“What do you mean, ‘stop’ it?” Arriet’s tone was suspicious, almost as if Brook had just been arrested for something similar.

Luckily, JP leaned into the cramped cockpit at that moment. “Representative, once we acquire a vessel from the Boneyard, we plan to petition the Emergency Service to contest the dismantlement order on the basis of its counterfactual statement that we have no ship. To the captain’s question, that option is removed as soon as the Emergency Service signs off on the order.” JP tapped one of the readouts that surrounded Brook, and a neon green waypoint appeared on the ship’s viewport. “Your coordinates, Captain.”

“Thanks, JP.” Brook adjusted the orientation of the shuttle. They quickly left behind Meltia’s atmosphere for the blackness of space. “Arriet, can you keep an eye on that order for us?”

“Certainly,” Arriet said.

Brook did not realize they were approaching the Boneyard until its darkened, inactive vessels began to blot out the stars. She switched the viewport to a sensor-augmented display, and almost jumped as hundreds upon hundreds of blue-wireframe starships popped out of the void. She did not have much time to admire the scale of the place, though, as a fully operational Meltian Guard command frigate cut between them and the ghostly armada.

“JP?” Brook asked.

“I have a communications channel open with them,” he said. “They want us to come aboard.”

“Did you tell them it’s an emergency?” Brook asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, let’s try to make this quick.”

The command frigate opened one of its hangar bay doors, and Brook maneuvered the police shuttle inside. Once it was landed, she unstrapped herself and joined JP in walking down the gangway. A female Rosarian in a Meltian Guard officer’s uniform met them at the bottom, carrying a clipboard-sized personal screen.

“Captain Brook.” The Rosarian saluted her.

Brook made a quick guess based on the Rosarian’s uniform as she returned the gesture. “Lieutenant Commander?”

If she was wrong, the Rosarian did not correct her. “I understand you have need of one of our ships, Captain?”

“Yes,” Brook said, “for the Interstellar Emergency Service. Preferably quickly.”

The Rosarian frowned, consulting her personal screen. “What does that entail?”

“Well, our old one had these big fins coming off the side.” Brook illustrated the shape with her hands. “And a pointy‌—‌”

“We need a large interior microgravity receiving bay and capacity for at least two hundred crew members,” JP said.

“That too,” Brook said.

The Rosarian entered a command into her personal screen and then turned it to face Brook and JP. “No fins, but it should work.” The screen displayed a ship with a long, boxy body that opened at the front‌—‌their microgravity receiving bay‌—‌and a skinny protrusion poking out from the bottom side like the grip of an ill-proportioned gun.

“Perfect,” Brook said.

JP produced a small cube from a pocket‌—‌Brook recognized it as a biological signature, or biosig cube. “For legal purposes, we will just need you to officially sign over the vessel to us.”

The lieutenant commander gave JP a skeptical look but accepted the biosig cube.

“Captain Brook!” Arriet’s voice emanated from the interior of the police shuttle. “The order has been dispatched.”

Brook smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m sure JP’s got us almost squared away.”

“Unfortunately, Captain,” JP said, “just as the dismantlement order must be delivered in person, so too must our petition to contest it.”