He awoke again, or had he just begun to dream? Either way, it was all the same, he thought as bright white lights seared his eyes. He could feel slimy gel sloughing off his skin as he sat up, gasping for air. His body seemed more functional this time, but he felt itchy. He looked down to see he had no skin and tried to scream. He felt his throat try to move, but the muscles hadn’t developed properly, and he choked on his own air.

The scientists looked on in disappointment, long numb to the horrors that they brought into the world over and over again. “Failure to grow skin, and it looks like the vocal cords never properly developed either. Sedate him and prepare an operating room for vivisection and let Bridget know this room will need to be reset.” Doctor McKay gave orders calmly as he turned away from the malformed man and strode out of the room. The cost of perfection was high. He just hoped that those who came after would have it in their hearts to forgive them.

The Avalon

Admiral Fletcher was patiently waiting. Typically he was the one upon whom people waited these days. However, in this case, he had been summoned by the one individual who had direct authority over him. He had arrived ever so slightly early and now stood at the edge of the small, unassuming waiting room that led to the offices of the Grand Admiral of the Avalon Fleet. He was looking out the wall of the window that encompassed one side of the room, perhaps not admiring but taking in the view that had been afforded. He had seen the majesty of The Avalon many times and found himself somewhat numb to it at this point. It was hard to appreciate the beauty on the surface when he knew of the horrors that lay beneath.

“Thank you for waiting Admiral, The Grand Admiral will see you now.” Fletcher turned to see a well-dressed young man. He didn’t recognize this secretary, but that was as much a fault of The Grand Admirals’ specific taste as much as anything. It was hard to keep track of the help when they all looked the same.

Fletcher followed the young man through the door into an antechamber that served as the secretaries office and then finally into the main office of The Grand Admiral. To say the office was impressive was an understatement. The décor was in sharp contrast with the rest of the fleet’s sparse amount of finery. The Grand Admiral, however, had a taste for the finer things in life, as was evident by the number of paintings, sculptures, and various trinkets that littered the room.

Even the rug was expensive and different from the last time Fletcher had been in the office. He idly wondered what had become of the last one. It had been rare export from Earth and was not the type of thing one disposed of without care. Especially given the interesting diplomatic issues surrounding the homeworld since the beginning of the war.

Fletcher turned his attention to the man at the center of the cacophony of curios masquerading as an office. He was a bit younger than Fletcher, certainly younger looking as his dark hair had yet to be touched by the silver of age, and only the slightest of wrinkles marred the edges of his light brown eyes.

The man’s far away gaze was interrupted, and he turned to Fletcher. He’d undoubtedly been interfacing with his implant moments before. “Ah, Zane, good of you to come. We have much to discuss.” Fletcher’s remaining organic eye twitched at the flippant use of his first name. He didn’t care for it overly much, and he’d found one of the benefits of military life was that you were typically addressed by your surname.

“Grand Admiral Mengsk, a pleasure to see you as always. I presume you have a reason for our meeting? The recall of the reunification fleet was quite surprising, frankly. I was under the impression you were satisfied with my work.” Fletcher migrated to the center of the room as he spoke, approaching one of the chairs across from Mengsk’s desk.

Mengsk arched an eyebrow at him, “standing on formality as always I see. Well Admiral Fletcher I will have you know I’m quite satisfied with your work and so was the Congress of Worlds. I proposed to them that the mission was a success and we could redivert the resources used on it elsewhere now that we had more worlds to draw recruits from.”

Fletcher took the seat across from Mengsk, “You know as well as I do that there are still plenty of myriad colonies to bring back into the fold. And you also know that the population of four more worlds does not tip the scale enough to matter. So what is actually going on?” Fletcher had little patience for Mengsk’s games. If he cared more about his position, he might humor the man, but with his foot half out the door, he found his desire to play along lacking.

Mengsk frowned, “Well if you’re so insistent then I’ll cut to the chase. We’re scaling back the offensive. The enemy is no longer pushing the lines and has shifted their focus to holding actions and strategic strikes. Given this shift we can afford to absorb new colonies at a slower pace so I’m letting the congress send diplomatic envoys instead of a fleet.”

Fletcher arched his eyebrows at that. It was well known in the upper echelons that on paper, the Congress of Worlds was in power, but that in reality, Grand Admiral Mengsk held the reins. Usually, Mengsk was more subtle about that fact, but perhaps some of Fletcher’s own directness had worn off on the man.

“As to why I needed to pull you back, a situation has been developing. The USA until recently had been slowly increasing the number of spy vessels in our systems. As you know we’ve tolerated them as to not let them know we’ve developed superior scanning technology. Anything truly important occurs in Avalon space anyways and they can’t pretend to hide as a rock in the void between stars.”

Fletcher frowned in consternation, “Until recently? What’s changed about the situation?”

Mengsk took a sip from a lightly steaming mug on his desk. “About that, their level of surveillance has dropped to what we’ve judged to be their bare minimum. Something is going on and we don’t have eyes on what’s happening. I want you to find out for me.”

Fletcher leaned back into his chair at that, considering the options, “You want to send me? How do you expect me to find anything out? Those three systems are so littered with detection equipment that any spy vessel we send will immediately be detected, and we don’t have the spare resources to siege any one of the USA’s systems.”

Mengsk gave a smug smile, “You will be doing neither of those things. You will be escorting our diplomatic team. The Congress of Worlds has managed to do what we cannot, open channels with the USA. This only happened after the decrease in spy ships however so I find it more likely that it has something to do with whatever triggered that. I want you to find out anything and everything you can while you’re in Sol and report back to me with your findings.”

Fletcher was impressed. It was far from the worst plan he’d heard come from Mengsk’s mouth, and the man was known for his hare-brained schemes. The fact that they succeeded more often than not didn’t make them any less insane on the surface. There was just one catch, “You do realize that they view me as a traitor, right? I can’t imagine they would see sending me in as terribly wise from a diplomatic perspective.”

Mengsk gave a dismissive wave and smiled, “It’ll be fine, besides, of the two Admirals that the diplomat said they’d like to have escorting them you’re the least offensive. The other option was Turner and he led the offensive to try and reclaim Wolf 359. I believe that makes you the more palatable option.”

Fletcher grimaced at that. The attempt to reclaim Wolf 359 from the USA had been an unmitigated disaster. They hadn’t been expecting heavy resistance and had instead found a massive fleet and heavy system fortifications. A lot of good men had died on both sides. The only reason it hadn’t resulted in total war was the simple fact both sides lack of manpower to send against the other.

“I see your point,” Fletcher said slowly, thinking over the situation. “I’ll see what I can dig up. Do you care if the diplomatic mission succeeds or not?”

“Asking the right questions as always,” Mengsk said, smiling. “As long as we don’t end up at war it doesn’t matter, but if you’re discovered snooping around I don’t need to tell you how bad that could be. To try and forestall that I’ll be sending you some intel, as well as some new equipment. Nothing that requires time in the dockyards, but we’ll need to rip out a few wall panels. You already have personnel who can utilize it, but if you need more just ask.”

Admiral Fletcher nodded. The Gringolet was designed to handle a lot of things, but spying wasn’t one of them. It made sense that they’d need new equipment. He’d make sure the captain knew. The man would make sure nothing untoward happened to the ship. Not that he didn’t trust Mengsk, but it paid to be careful. “If that’s all Grand Admiral I’ll take my leave.”

"That’s everything Admiral Fletcher. Good luck.” Mengsk said as he stood to shake Fletcher’s hand.

Fletcher stood and grasped Mengsk’s hand in turn, “Thank you sir.”

***

Admiral Zane Fletcher stood in the penthouse apartment afforded to him for his stays aboard The Avalon. It was comfortable in theory, lavish in fact. Something about the level of finery always set him on edge, and he always found himself retreating back to his quarters aboard his flagship. It would do for tonight.

He let his mind drift as he gazed out the wall of windows to the landscape of The Avalon. He had a good view of some of a sector that had been devoted to farmland. The ‘sun’ was beginning to set on it, and he watched the massive slab of metal slowly move past, the simulated natural light leaving with it.

As he watched the farmland be slowly engulfed into darkness, his thoughts turned to the meeting earlier in the day. Mengsk had seemed confident during the meeting, but Fletcher pulled up the recording his eye had made of the meeting. As he slowly reviewed the footage, he saw the subtle signs of stress and worry. Not that it meant the man was hiding anything, Mengsk had a lot to deal with.

Fletcher dismissed his suspicions and turned from the view. He would carry out this mission, and then perhaps he would resign. He was so tired of it all. The memories of simpler times came unbidden to his mind as he prepared for sleep. Days when a handful of pirates and corporate privateers were the height of his worries. He indulged in the memories as he settled into the too large, too soft bed and slowly drifted to sleep.