Project: Reflect
SUBMITTED BY:
SL Rhys von Pohl / Gamma 3-1 / ISD ChimaeraThe stars outside the Chimaera’s viewport shrank from brilliant streaks of light to tiny pinpoints poked in the vast, dark canopy of space. A quick glance at the scope revealed to Captain Calorn that the Red Claw - II had made the jump through hyperspace successfully, as well.
They were entering the Beryavor System; a "not-much-there" system consisting of a G2 star and three uninhabitable moons. The moons themselves were of unremarkable composition, but their atmospheres surrounded the lazy rock, iron and nickel masses with fantastic, swirling, multicoloured gases. The moons circled the sun in a most peculiar manner...they shared the same orbit. They marched round and round in unison from equidistant positions, one after the other like soldiers in a line.
But the peculiarities didn’t end there. Beryavor 1, 2, and 3 (as they had been labelled) were close enough together in their endless trek that their poisonous atmospheres nearly touched. In fact, they danced so close to one another that they exchanged clouds of multicoloured gas from time to time.
B2, in the middle, was an enigma in and of itself. While B1 and B3 displayed counter-clockwise rotations as was typical, B2 insisted on a clockwise rotation. Given this abnormality combined with their close proximity, the three moved together like interconnected gears. As a result, the space station DS-X9/Blue never remained in orbit above any of the moons for very long. Instead, it was passed in a fancy figure-eight pattern (with an extra loop) from atmosphere to atmosphere (to atmosphere!). It was an otherwise inhospitable system, but its location in relation to the Galactic Core made it an ideal place from which to gather sensitive information.
Calorn thoughtfully reviewed all of this while searching the viewport for some indication of the eminent "threat" facing the Intelligence Outpost. According to CommScan, DS-X9/Blue was currently star-side of B3 and consequently out of visual range. If the Chimaera maintained speed and course, they would intercept the station in...
"...3 hours and 27 minutes, sir!" came the report.
"Have they acknowledged our arrival?" Calorn asked.
"Not yet, sir."
Calorn wrinkled his brow at the unusual lack of activity within the system.
"Continue hailing them on all frequencies. Is there any threat indication?"
"None, sir. There is a minor flux reading on the long-range scanner, Captain, but all indications are nominal."
Calorn slowly drew in a deep breath and held it. He stood rigid, hands clasped behind his back and carefully analysed the situation. For all intents and purposes, nothing was out of order. There was no pressing danger, and the Intelligence Outpost they were scheduled to rendezvous with was still over three hours away, apparently unharmed. Everything was....fine. Except for the fact that Calorn’s instincts were screaming like an enraged rancor. And the Captain of the Imperial Flagship had learned long ago that instincts were often more reliable than the apparent "facts".
He released his breath with agonising precision. The relaxation technique had done its job, and Calorn’s tactical mind was now alert and active.
"Stand-by Alert!" he ordered. Instantly, the pit lighting flashed to amber, indicating the change in ship’s status. "I want squadron’s Alpha and Gamma ready to launch on my mark. Beta and Delta, prepare to reinforce."
Just then, the turbo-lift arrived on the bridge with a "whoosh" of compressed air that mimicked Calorn’s exhale. The door slid aside and Commander Stele strode onto the bridge. He approached the Captain with a snap salute. Calorn returned the gesture and raised a questioning eyebrow.
"I’ve finished briefing the command staff as per your orders, sir," Stele reported, "and the Ubiqtorate Liaison confirms validity of the message and context." There was a brief pause as Stele considered his next question. "With all due respect, sir, what is ‘9E200’?"
Calorn weighed the situation carefully for a moment and with a slight nod, decided to confide in his 1st Officer. The Captain motioned for Stele to follow him as he moved away from the pit and closer to the viewport.
"Do you play dejarik, Commander?" Calorn began in hushed tones.
"Dejarik, sir?" Stele was confused, "...um, not since my days at the academy. Why do you ask, sir?"
"There is a strategy used within the game in which a player subtly makes one of his more powerful pieces vulnerable. His opponent naturally sends a piece to capture the first, but in doing so discovers the vulnerability was a facade. The opponent is now trapped and cannot escape."
"I’m not sure I follow you, sir."
Calorn briefly looked up and assessed that they were out of hearing range of any of the crew. "I had to recheck my personal files to be sure, but 9E200 was the designation for the classified file where information on ‘Project: Reflect’ was kept."
Stele frowned, never having heard of Project: Reflect. Calorn read the expression and continued.
"This information is classified at the highest level. Let’s just say that Intel was working on a method of drastically multiplying the number of ships in the fleet. But the method proved dangerously unstable and was officially dropped by High Command. Unofficially, however, research may have continued. If that information has got into the wrong hands....". Calorn stopped, not completing the thought as Ensign Vorluo approached.
"Yes Ensign, what is it?"
"Sir, the ship is locked down at Stand-by Alert. Lieutenants Palantas and Rala report their squadrons are ready to launch on your mark. Beta and Delta remain on stand-by. Still no contact from the Outpost, sir!"
"Very well Ensign, launch Alpha and Gamma - maintain alert patrol."
"Aye, sir!" Ensign Vorluo spun on his heel and retreated quickly to carry out his orders.
Calorn watched him go for a moment before returning to his conversation with Commander Stele.
"Without contact from the Outpost, I must assume the worst. If my suspicions are correct, I want as many of our fighters out there as possible. According to the message, DS-X9/Blue appears to be ‘vulnerable’. They requested our assistance, alone. Perhaps for ‘security’ reasons, but I am not convinced. It could be a ‘facade’. I do not intend to be ‘trapped’ in this manner."
* * * * *
His cockpit was quiet. Sub-lieutenant Rhys von Pohl was at the point of the diamond formation as Gamma Squadron Group 3 swept their assigned sector. They’d been out here for two hours now and fatigue was beginning to set in. Rhys even found himself starting to doze off a couple of times. There was nothing out here. He reached over and clicked his comm-switch.
"Gamma 3, this is 3-1. Report." he called.
"3-2 standing by, sir." Ensign Tobias returned.
"3-3 standing by." Ensign G’off’s voice sounded.
"3-4 standing by, One." That was Ensign Lyons.
"Sir, if I may....," Ensign Lyons continued, "...what are we doing? We haven’t even spotted so much as a stray comet out here!"
"I understand your frustration, Four, but keep it focused," Rhys answered, "Command says ‘patrol’, so we patrol."
"Gamma 3 this is Gamma 1, over." Lieutenant Palantas broke in.
"I read you Gamma 1, what can I do for you, sir?"
"Rhys, check out quad-7 of your sector. Command is receiving interference of some kind on their long-range scanner."
"Will do, sir." Rhys switched back to closed communications with his group, "Gamma 3, reset course to quadrant 7, this sector."
"Yee-haw. Now we’ll see some action!" came G’off’s sarcastic reply.
"Cut the chatter, Three," Rhys was getting irritable, "We’ve got a job to do."
The radio fell silent.
"There’s nothing out here!" Rhys repeated to himself. "Just stars, stars and more stars!" He was beginning to consider significant career changes when the comm came to life again.
"Sir, I think I’ve got something." Lyons sounded puzzled. "It looks like a distortion in space....perhaps a cloaking device. Permission to fire?"
"Negative, Four. We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet. Relay scan to the Chimaera."
"Aye, sir, relaying now. I’ll -- ARRG!" Suddenly Lyons’ voice was replaced by a scream and a metal rending explosion over the comm!
Rhys pulled the controls hard to swing around and bring Lyons’ ship into visual. All that was left was an expanding ball of superheated gases.
"Gamma 3-3, report!" Rhys ordered. "G’off, what happened?!"
"Sir, he just exploded!" G’off was obviously shaken, "It’s almost like he ran into a wall!"
Rhys stared at the comm for a moment, unsure if he’d heard G’off correctly. A quick visual scan confirmed that Three’s frantic guess was somewhat accurate. As the final fragments of Lyons’ ship dissipated, they seemed to illuminate a smooth, flat (yet otherwise invisible) surface suspended in space. It could be a cloaked ship, or maybe... The surface shimmered at the point of impact and seemed for an instant to grow lighter and become visible. It almost looked like a mirror! Suddenly then, out of the light and from within the surface, a trio of X-Wings sprang!
"Enemy fighters!" G’off yelled, "They’re coming straight for me -- YIEE!!"
Rhys watched, stunned, as G’off instinctively fired at the approaching X-Wings, but in his panic missed the targets. The brilliant red laser bolts flashed from G’off’s ship across space, impacted the "wall" Lyons had crashed into and were reflected back 1000 times more powerful at their point of origin. G’off’s Interceptor was vaporised in the blink of an eye!
"Tobias!" Rhys called to his wingman, "Retreat! Fall back! Do not, repeat, Do NOT fire in this sector. We’ll regroup at sector 6....best speed!"
The two remaining interceptors changed course sharply and increased speed. The three X-Wings made pursuit. Urging his fighter on, Rhys relayed the last couple of minutes to Palantas.
"Fall back to our sector," Palantas ordered, "We can handle three X-Wings."
Rhys and Tobias obeyed, taking a few moments to regain composure while Gamma 1 made short work of the enemy pilots.
Palantas made a quick scan of the area and confirmed it was clear before bringing his fighter alongside Rhys.
"Is your flight recorder still functioning?" the Lieutenant asked.
"Yes, sir..." Rhys double-checked the chronometer to make certain the entire incident was there.
"Get back to the Chimaera. Maybe they can analyse it and give us some idea of what we’re dealing with."
"But sir, I’ve lost half..."
"That’s an order, Gamma 3!" Palantas snapped. "I’m aware of the situation, but if we don’t come up with a plan, we’ll lose more than two pilots."
Rhys clenched his teeth. He knew Palantas was right, but running from a battle was against his nature. He’d get the tape to the Chimaera and then be back...with a vengeance.
"Come on, Tobias. Let’s head home."
* * * * *
"Look, there!" Commander Stele pointed to a sensor reading display, while on the viewscreen Ensign Lyons’ Interceptor collided with the invisible wall. The tech running the control panel stopped playback, rewound several seconds and started forward again, this time frame by frame. Both officers watched for the precise moment of impact, confirming the readout.
"The Captain will find this very interest -- ."
Stele was interrupted by the sudden blare of combat sirens. The ship was under attack! The Commander whirled from the console and dashed to the main viewport. Everywhere he looked, literally thousands of Rebel warships swarmed the Chimaera like angry hornets.
"Where did they come from?" Stele demanded. "Why was there no warning?"
"Sir, they just....appeared," came the answer, "One second the scanners were blank....then, this."
"Battlestations! Return fire! Launch Beta and Delta Squadrons immediately. Inform the Captain of our situation." Stele was controlled, but firm under pressure.
"That won’t be necessary, Commander." Calorn stepped onto the bridge.
"Captain on the bridge!"
"As you were. Maintain battle-stations. Report, Commander."
"Sir, these readouts can’t be accurate! We have engaged a massive Rebel fleet. Our fighters have intercepted theirs. We are inflicting casualties...but the number of enemy fighters isn’t decreasing. Rather, they are...increasing!" Stele didn’t believe his own words.
Calorn glared sharply at his First Officer, "Explain."
Commander Stele opened his mouth to attempt an explanation, but none was forthcoming.
"Where are the ships coming from?" Calorn was still sceptical.
"F-from the distortion discovered by Gamma 3, sir, as near as we can tell."
"Show me." It was not a request.
Stele motioned his Captain over to the console and brought up the sector in question. Calorn’s mouth dropped open at the sight. There, floating in space, was....(for lack of a better description)...an enormous mirror! Thousands of kilometres high and wide, it’s smooth glassy surface sparkled in the light of the firefight. Calorn watched, unable to speak, as two X-Wings flew directly at the mirror. He could see their reflections in the mirror’s surface on the monitor as they approached. It looked as if they were going to crash into it like Ensign Lyons had done, but at the last possible second pulled up and away. Suddenly there were no longer two enemy fighters flying along that trajectory, but four! The reflections simply appeared, and flew out of the mirror, joining the fight. Calorn blinked hard, and even rubbed his eyes. What could he possibly do? He had a finite number of fighters as his disposal, but the enemy had an apparent endless supply.
"Instruct our fighters to duplicate the enemy movements!" Calorn ordered sharply, "We can use their own weapon against them."
"We’ve tried that, sir," Stele was quick to say, "but our fighters don’t create any kind of reflection in the mirror. It must require some special frequency or transmission code to operate correctly."
"Blast!" Calorn swore sharply, slamming his fist onto the console. He wasn’t usually given to public displays of rage, but he could see no way out of this cleverly laid trap.
"At their current rate of duplication, the enemy will have us outnumbered 20 to 1 in less than five minutes." Stele’s report was grim.
"Sir!" Lieutenant Bulkan called to the Captain, "Commander Rebel Fleet is sending a transmission. He wishes a truce, to confer!"
Calorn and Stele locked eyes. Neither could believe what was happening. They were the flagship of the fleet. If they were to surrender.....the Empire could very well crumble. But what other choice did they have?
"Put him on." Calorn stated plainly in a even, emotionless tone.
Suddenly the bridge was quiet. It was as if someone had clapped their hands over the Captain’s ears, so immediate was the silence. The HoloNet crackled to life and changed from static to the scowling visage of.....
"This is Commander Youlon of the Rebel Alliance. You will stand down and surrender your vessel over to me and my troops, or be destroyed."
"Some ‘truce to confer’." Calorn thought to himself. "This is Captain Calorn of the Imperial Flagship Chimaera," he responded to Youlon, "what conditions do you propose?"
"There are no conditions!" Youlon barked. "You are hopelessly outnumbered! Surrender to us immediately or we will completely destroy you and your Empire!"
Silence. No one dared even breathe, waiting to hear Captain Calorn’s reply. Suddenly, Commander Stele was at his side.
"Sir," Stele muttered quietly, "I have an idea."
Once again their eyes locked. Entire volumes passed between these two who had served the Emperor so long together with unquestioning loyalty.
"I trust you, Commander." Calorn spoke evenly.
Without another word, Stele stepped quickly to Helm Control. Throwing a look of defiance toward the HoloNet, he punched in a new course. The ship noticeably lurched and moved off on its new heading....directly toward the mirror.
"You cannot escape!" Youlon raved like a madman. "We will see you obliterated to a man!"
Stele made no reply, but increased velocity. "Increase forward shields....maximum power!" he growled through his teeth.
The Chimaera accelerated even more. There was no mistaking Commander Stele’s intent now. The majestic wedge of the Imperial Flagship was on a collision course with the mirror. Calorn started, his movement almost imperceptible. Stele was going to ram the mirror! Calorn could only repeat to himself over and over, "I trust you, Commander. I trust you, Commander. I trust you Commander!"
"What are you doing?!?!" Youlon bellowed. "Stop! Don’t be a fool!! You’ll all be --!"
"Shut him off!!" Calorn couldn’t contain himself any longer. The holo-image blinked out. Calorn took several long strides reaching out with a gloved hand and gripped Stele’s shoulder.
"Brace for impact!"
The projected shields around the Chimaera struck the glassy surface and visibly buckled. The deck canted wildly. A console in the pit exploded, showering the bridge with glowing sparks. Crew were tossed like rags from their seats. Calorn and Stele were thrown to the deck onto their knees.
The mirror shattered.
Shards of "glass" flew in every direction through space. Deadly razor-sharp pieces crashed mercilessly into ships’ hulls, more dangerous than laser-fire. Calorn struggled to his feet, trying desperately to gather in the terribly awesome sight.
The mirror itself was destroyed, but that was not all. The ships that had been created by it’s incredible technology shattered simultaneously as well. The massive fleet had gone from numbering in the thousands, to less than twenty! The threat was over.
"Tractor beams!" Calorn commanded, amazed that his tongue actually worked. His orders were carried out wordlessly. In only a few moments, they had successfully captured the remaining fragments of the Rebel "fleet".
The Captain knelt down and offered a hand to his First Officer. Stele accepted the hand graciously and came to his feet. Calorn took a deep breath and looked him squarely in the eye, one brow raised and a rye smile on his lips.
"Explanation, Commander?"
Stele tugged at the bottom of his tunic, straightening himself with military precision. "I apologise, sir, but there wasn’t time to tell you. I had analysed the data that Gamma 3 brought back and noticed that when Ensign Lyons impacted the mirror, there was considerable stress delivered to it’s surface and it’s integrity fluctuated. I surmised that all we needed was an impact large enough to break down the integrity completely."
"I can’t say I fully agree with your methods," Calorn mused, "but congratulations, Commander. You have saved us from certain destruction, Grand Admiral Daemon will be pleased." Stele smiled at the praise from his Captain.
"Ensign Vorluo, what is ship’s status?"
"Minor hull damage reported, sir. Shields at 73%. No casualties....." Vorluo paused a moment. It was obvious he was receiving an incoming transmission. "Sir! Transmission coming in from DS-X9/Blue!"
"Put it on."
"Captain Calorn, this is Intelligence Outpost DS-X9/Blue. I see you have dealt with our little problem most satisfactorily....."
"Our little problem?" questioned Calorn sourly.
"....Project: Reflect has been under scrutiny for some time. We needed a real-threat scenario to test the limits of it’s capabilities. Things got a little out of hand."
"You mean to tell me this all started as one of your experiments?" Calorn was not pleased.
"If you wish to put it that way, Captain, I suppose, yes. We started with a handful of captured enemy craft and multiplied them into an impressive fighting force. Unfortunately, the captured individuals flying the ships had ideas of their own, and there were so many, we could no longer control them. Once the force was large enough, they decided to overtake our facility. We had no weapon large enough to stop them, so we naturally called you. Your service to the Empire is appreciated."
Calorn gripped the console viciously. His face turned an ugly crimson.
"What about ‘Commander Youlon’?" Calorn spat.
"Oh, he is in fact the ‘real thing’." came the reply. "We’ve held him captive here since the Battle of Endor. We thought to learn something of Rebel tactics by close examination of his work, but he has proven to be most....unpredictable. You may do with him as you wish."
"They are really quite pleased with themselves." Calorn thought, in disgust. "They nearly released one of the most powerful Rebel Commanders back into space with an entire armada at his disposal." He stood silently defiant for several long moments. In fact, Stele took a step toward him, unsure of what he should do. Calorn’s hand hovered over the fire-control switch, visibly battling with himself. He knew his ship had the power to lay waste to the Outpost, but such an outburst would be a useless gesture.
"How dare they treat the Imperial Flagship with such total disregard!" Several more minutes passed, until finally, with eyes closed to contain his rage, Calorn’s open hand clenched into a fist, and he pulled himself up to his full height.
"I do not appreciate being treated like a pawn." He addressed the Intelligence Officer with cold, icy tones, "and I’m certain the Grand Admiral will be most displeased."
"Perhaps...." came the scornful reply, "...but whom do you serve? The ‘Grand Admiral’? Or.....the Emperor?"
"You insinuate that the Grand Admiral’s agenda ---?!"
"We have no further business. Good day.....Captain." The transmission was severed.
"Commander Stele....." Calorn barked sharply.
Stele was certain the order would be given to destroy the Outpost and everything on it. Stele waited, holding his breath without even realizing it. He watched the muscles in his Captain’s jaws clench uncontrollably. What would happen? What would he do? What.....
"....you have the bridge." Calorn finished and spun quickly on his heel and marched briskly to the turbolift.
* * * * *
Several hours later, after the ship had been secured, Commander Stele made his way down the dimly lit passage. His measured footsteps rang clearly on the deck as he stopped outside the door marked ‘Captain’s Quarters’. He stood for a moment, almost unsure of himself. But then resolved, he punched the call button. Entry was granted and the door slid aside with a whisper of air.
Calorn’s quarters were warmly lit. An untouched mug of some spiced beverage sat on a high-polished table in front of the Captain himself. Calorn rose at the sight of his First Officer, his confidant, his friend and extended a hand in greeting.
"Pardon me for intruding, sir...." Stele started.
"Not at all, Stele. What can I do for you?" he asked pleasantly.
"I was wondering, sir....do you have time for a game of dejarik?"