#scifi stuff

"Thought you were quitting, Admiral," his adjutant remarked and waved the wandering smoke away from his face with a datapad.

King ignored the comment and took another puff before gesturing towards the dark screen. "There's a saying from Old Earth... War is old men talking while young men die. We aren't going out to avenge our lost comrades, our po-"

Lieutenant David Conner cut off his superior's rant before it started. "Yes sir, I know. We're just going out to expand our territory to relieve the population stress. More territory, more works, and we'll be able to mount a stronger front against the alien nations. Sir, I need you to sign off on the final checks before we get underway in half an hour." The datapad was presented stiffly for the older man, who took it and huffed. Quickly skimming through the information contained within, Theodore was once again pleased by his protégé's work; concise, accurate, and, as seemingly always, free of errors. He pressed his thumb against the reader and authorized the report. "Very good, sir. Thank you." The Lieutenant reclaimed the pad and grabbed a wallbar and prepared to push himself towards the door.

"... He's not wrong though," King said quietly and tapped his ash into a nearby vac-tray.

David stopped and turned back towards the admiral. "Sir?"

"About the xenos. His stated reasons are scheisse, but we've been too passive; beating back invasions and rarely ever doing anything more than holding the borders. Kra'vak incursions have been getting worse each year; for us and the independent worlds."

Hanging onto the bar, Lieutenant Conner took a moment before replying, "you've read my record sir, so you know my stance on the bugs."

"Mmm. Silver Bell was a bad bit of business, that's for sure. Facemelter was a damn fine ship." The younger man nodded and tried not to scratch at his elbow where the prosthetic limb joined his body as King rose from his seat and jabbed out the half-smoked cigar. "Let's make sure the Frank doesn't meet a similar fate."

That gave David a moment of pause. "You believe we're going to fight the Kra'vak, sir?"

"Count on it," Theodore grunted as he pushed himself away from the chair and, in a show of dexterity unexpected from an old man, kicked gently off the wall on a perfect vector to pass through the door into the brightly lit hall beyond. "When the bastards catch wind of the damage we will inevitably take conquering the independents, they'll come sniffing around for a free meal. The Kra'vak definitely, and probably the Phalon as well. Of course, there's no telling what the Savasku will do... We'll have to wait and see."

"You think the neutrals will offer enough of a fight to damage us? ForCEComm was predicting no more than an 8% loss of combat capa-"

It was the admiral's turn to interrupt, with a savage sweep of his hand as they pulled and kicked their way down the hallway. "Arschlöcheren. The lot of them... We'll be down 30% before we take four worlds," he remarked and returned a salute to a trio of passing crewmen. "Their projections are as bad as propaganda sometimes. The independents won't go down easily, and it'll take time to bring them into the fold. Three months of xeno attacks before we can rely on their spaceyards. By that point, we'll be worn down to 40% combat effectiveness."

David was quiet for a moment as he processed the new information. "... Sir, can we hold?"

The old man's grin was wide and sure as he hit the door panel  to open the bridge. "I've won with worse odds. The propaganda isn't all scheisse, Lieutenant. Our ships pack more advanced hardware than anything short of the Savasku, and our crewmen are the most dedicated and talented in the black... Isn't that right, captain?"

Captain Jennifer Ridge rose from her seat, keeping her leg braced against the stic-pad, and saluted King as he entered the command center. "Sir, you damn well know it. CO on deck!"

The dozen bridge officers took a moment to raise their fists in salute and shouted in unison, "yours to command, sir!"

"At ease. You have the bridge, captain." The admiral and his adjutant made a quick path to the fleet command post and settled into the seats there. "What's our status?"

"The Frank Exchange of Views is ready, admiral," Ridge replied crisply.

King nodded his head with a grunt. "And the rest of the taskforce?"

Holograms of status reports and ship statuses flickered to life all around Conner's station. After seeing the all-clear sign from the other ships in the fleet, he turned to the admiral and reported, in a formal tone, "sir. All ships in operation Involuntary Euthanasia are ready are your mark."

"Take us to the jump point. Frank up front, and get the taskforces into line behind us. Captain, take us out."