#terran trade authority

[retroscifiart]

Art by Peter Elson (1947 – 1998)

[alphamecha-mkii]

Spacecraft 2000-2100 - Voyager II/Connestoga by Angus McKie

[humanoidhistory]

Fred Gambino illustration from Star Quest: An Incredible Voyage Into the Unknown, 1979.

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The Pettiness of Man

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

Human pocket kingdoms were the result of the fragmented nature of humanity’s space exploration and settlement programs. Central authority still resided with the Terran Protectorate the closer one got to the Terran homeworld, but the further one went the less and less power the Protectorate had leaving opportunistic parties to establish their own domains.

The Federalist Union and Kingdom of the Fallen Sun were two such domains. Each situated in their own star system neighboring the other, the two realms had at one point been part of what was known as the Caspen Initiative. Funded by the Caspen Corporation, both systems were colonized and put under direct corporate rule rather than the laws of the Protectorate.

The Truna System held the most infrastructure and had turned its settlements into thriving cities. The comforts of the core worlds could be found here in abundance leading to a higher quality of life. It was here Caspen situated their corporate headquarters for the initiative which further led to the system becoming a major trade hub.

In contrast, the Kefer System was still largely untamed and wild yet rich with natural resources. Caspen did not wish to risk losing more experienced personnel on these planets nor take the time to invest in an expensive robotic work force. The wildlife across all the planets within the Kefer System was extremely hostile and dangerous; resulting in the failures of two colonization attempts already. In the end Caspen instead was able to obtain several transports of convicted criminals and turn them into penal laborers.  Fortified factories were established with a heavily armed guard force watching over the laborers and delivering them expected quotas. In exchange for their labor they were provided with basic necessities for living and comfort; though the prisoners soon realized that the corporate ideal of “comfort” was often the least expensive option they could find.

Initially the management of both systems under the Caspen Corporation went well the company saw ever increasing share values. Unsurprisingly though, corporations are not equipped to act as a governing body and rifts soon began brewing in both systems. In Truna, the citizens began moving for more reasonable work hours and a louder voice in who is selected for high level positions. Around the same time the penal laborers in Kefer began planning mass revolts to overthrow an increasingly oppressive guard force that repeatedly put them in danger for the sake of profit margins. Caspen naturally tried to clamp down on the unrest, but their often heavy handed retaliations only further inflamed dissident movements to the point open revolt occurred almost simultaneously.

The resulting struggle would eventually see the complete removal of the Caspen Corporation from both systems, but also lay the groundwork for future conflicts between the newly established Federalist Union of the Truna system and the Kingdom of the Fallen Sun in the Kefer System.

The Unionists of Truna saw the penal laborers as nothing more than convicts and refused to recognize their newly founded kingdom as legitimate. Likewise the newly freed prisoners of Kefer, under their chosen king Sigvold the Mad, saw the citizens of Truna as part of the corporate machine that had made their lives a living hell and wanted nothing to do with them.

Each side regards the other as being the natural aggressor, but to finding the truth of who fired the first shot will never be known. What is certain is that not long after their corporate overlords were driven away did both systems set their sights on each other.

For nearly two centuries both systems have been at war with each other with the Federalist Union developing into a thriving independent system and the Kingdom of the Fallen Sun becoming a haven for every backwater, illegal, and nefarious scoundrel the galaxy has to offer. The Federalist council has attempted to isolate the Kefer system via naval blockades, while the new king Haren Hammer launches periodic raids against the Union to steal technology and supplies.

It looked like the stalemate would continue until the end of time until a third party intervened.

The alien species Gresh’n had been eyeing the prosperous worlds in the Truna System and had waited for the right moment to strike and claim them for their own. This moment came when the Federalist Union deployed the majority of their fleet to make yet another attempt to destroy the Kingdom of the Fallen Sun and remove the corruption so close to their doorstep.

Once the Gresh’n confirmed both human fleets were locked in deadly battle did they commit their own forces to invading the Federalist Union.

Caught completely unaware, the forces left to protect the borders of the Federalist Union were easily swept aside in a series of lightning strikes. Even the capital world came under siege with Gresh’n forces poised to conquer the world in little more than a month.

Just when the system was at its darkest something beyond comprehension happened.

At the outskirts of the Truna System the Gresh’n detected a massive fleet. The picket lines established to screen the main invasion force were decimated and when the mystery fleet finally held orbit and squared off with the primary fleet of the Gresh’n military they were surprised to see that it was comprised of both Unionist and Kingdom forces. Before the final battle commenced a system wide broadcast went out originating from the Kingdom’s flagship and personal ship of king Harren Hammer.

“YOU FUCKING INGRATES!!!” the pocket king shouted into the camera, “YOU’VE RUINED EVERYTHING!!!!”

“FOR YEARS I PLANNED THE PERFECT WAR TO END THESE UNION BASTARDS ONCE AND FOR ALL AND YOU COME ALONG AND FUCK IT UP! I WILL NOT HAVE MY VICTORY STOLEN FROM ME!”

With that the massed armada descended on both the Gresh’n fleet and their forces on the capital world. The civilized citizens of the Union watched as they were rescued by pirates, thieves, criminals, and every variety of psychopaths the galaxy had a name for while overhead Kingdom junkers and corsair ships boarded Gresh’n ships and took them as trophies.

After thirteen hours of intense fighting the Gresh’n finally flung up the proverbial white flag and surrendered. King Harren replied that he would give them a three hour head start and that after that every Gresh’n in system would be hunted down and killed. In its weakened state the Federalist Union could not oppose this decision and so remained quiet.

Three hours passed and true to his word King Harren began a massive hunt the likes of which are still spoken of. Fleeing Gresh’n ships were magnetically harpooned as they fled and dragged back to be boarded by cutthroats while Gresh’n ground forces pleaded to deaf eared Union citizens for shelter as the Kingdom vagabonds scoured the planet for new trophies.

When the hunt was finally finished there was no exchange of thanks, nor celebration held in honor of their saviors. The forces of the kingdom withdrew one by one, hulls full of new bounty, until only King Harren’s flagship remained.

“You get five years to rebuild.” He said over another system wide broadcast. “After that I’m coming back and taking this all proper.”

With that final ominous warning the pocket king left.

The effects of the Gresh’n failed invasion would have limited impact on the wider galaxy save for the fact it would teach future alien leaders that when considering invasions of human territory, one could not always count on the enemy of your enemy being your friend.

[manfrommars2049]

Uncredited. via Terran Trade Authority facebook group. via TerranTradeAuthority

[starryeyes2000]

The Road Back: Chapter 40

The Dud

Read on AO3 or FFN

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Christopher Pike x OFC (Aalin)

Word Length: 3.2k

Summary: Once the physical injuries from Talos healed, Chris resolutely moved on resuming a casual social life. When he met someone who called to his heart and each time the moment was right to become lovers he pulled back. Unwilling to trust himself. Unsure if the attraction and his feelings were real. Torn between desire and self-protection. For the Talos incident was more than kidnapping, imprisonment, and mind-control. It was a violation of the deepest and most intimate kind. And perhaps there was no way back.

Excerpt:

Years Ago

The decades following the end of the Earth-Romulan conflict proved an era of prosperity for the alpha and beta quadrants as well as the Orion arm of the galaxy. After the armistice, war allies, Earth, Vulcan, Andor, and Tellar, formalized their coalition by establishing the United Federation of Planets, creating a shared executive, legislature, judiciary, and currency. The sovereign states of this union also acted in common. For its constituents, governing would be local and central, all bound by commitments to share knowledge and resources, to conduct fair trade, to guarantee and further the universal rights of all sentient life while respecting the beliefs, social forms, and material traits of every group.

A constitution was written codifying these rights. Starfleet was chartered for mutual defense and exploration. Other species petitioned for inclusion and at a rapid pace this confederation expanded in membership and territory.

Not all within the Federation’s protection experienced this prosperity. Or safety. There were biases for the founding members and those species possessing abundant quantities of natural resources underpinning modern life, such as dilithum crystals, which could not be done without and nor created in a lab. Growth came too fast, taxing the fledgling union’s capabilities and cohesion. When a species proved its readiness to join, all of its home planets’ colonies were grandfathered into the Federation without verification that these adjunct and often splinter groups’ mores met the minimum threshold required for entry. A few parent governments did not police their far-flung dependencies; Starfleet did not possess the personnel, ships nor warp capability for regular visits to these holdings. In some colonies, monies granted for providing food, shelter, health care, public services, and basic constitutionally protected amenities were extorted by local officials, business executives, and other criminals.

William Matthews was born into one of these settlements, one too far from prominent members of the Federation, belligerent or aggressive aliens, or busy shipping corridors to merit notice. His parents, Terrans who emigrated to this distant world after earthquakes and floods destroyed their birth colony, enticed by false promises of high wages and land of their own, accepted indenture in exchange for the cost of passage. They worked in a cramped and crumbling factory, locked in a building manning an assembly line from sunup to sunset, with three days off each lunar cycle. On this planet, the moon waxed and waned every sixty Earth days. His parents died in a fire, orphaning him at nine years old.

Continue reading on AO3 or FFN

Series Masterlist | OC Masterlist | Author Masterlist

Taglist: @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation @ocappreciationtag @bardic-tales @themaradwrites @chickensarentcheap

[spaceintruderdetector]

https://archive.org/details/terran-trade-authority-books-V1/Terran%20Trade%20Authority%20Handbook%20-%20Spacewreck/

[sillyarbiterdragon]

I saw this and thought it look familiar, and it is!

It was used in Terran Trade Authority Handbook: SPACEWRECK - Ghostships and Derelicts of Space (published 1979) as both the title page spread and the three-page spread on pages 70/71/72

Tony Roberts, 1979

[retroscifiart]

Spaceships crashing into each other 💥 Art by Bob Layzell (1977), Colin Hay (1979), Chris Foss (1976), Charles J Lang (1988), Peter Elson (1979)

[alphamecha-mkii]

Starliners Interior Art by Trevor Webb

[rws2871]

The Mercy Of Humans - Chapter 2: To Do The Right Thing

“Breaking news from Confederation space,” I watched as the media talking head looked appropriately concerned/serious. “The Dal’tari system’s star has become unstable, throwing off massive coronal ejections, solar flares, and deadly radiation. The Dalutian people’s home planet, Umsarrat, has been severely affected. So far, we know that their entire space-based infrastructure inside their asteroid belt has been destroyed. The solar flares and the accompanying heat have caused near irreparable damage to their ecosystem. Jane?”

“Volume up. Expand image.” I ordered. The smart screen on the bulkhead of the cargo ship’s tiny mess hall complied. The pre-recorded image enlarged from 1.5 meters wide to five, taking up the entire wall and the volume doubled. The off-duty crew of the TCS Star Wanderer all watched intently.

“Thank you, Ahmed,” the cohost continued. “This news is over a week old, but these solar flares started about fifteen standard days ago. I warn you; these images are disturbing. As you can see their crops have been wiped out either by sudden drought or the massive hurricanes the change in the weather patterns have spawned over the past week.”

I was shocked at the scenes of devastation. The scorched croplands, dead livestock, floods and landslides were bad enough, but seeing the injured Dalutians was heartbreaking. So many of the birdlike people suffered critical burns and the video showed authorities loading bodies onto floater-trucks. Most were small, the children of the world had suffered the worst.

“Damn, lookit that!” Bob exclaimed with his New Texas twang. “That hurricane must be five thousand clicks wide. It’s bigger than the damned continent.”

“Hate to see kids suffer like that,” I said.

“Reports are the Dalutians have requested aid from the Galactic Confederation, but so far it seems they have been left alone to deal with the crisis,” the cohost said. “Stay tuned. More news after the break.”

“Remember the Cascabel colony? About what, fifty years ago? Lost ever’one,” Bob scratched his scruffy red beard. “Men, women, kids. My dad was on the ship that found it.”

“That was a mutated virus, right?” Angela Chan asked. “Like some sort of super flu?”

“Sumptin like that. Dunno,” Bob drawled. “I ain’t a scientist ‘r historian. I just know it still haunts my dad. Finding a billion dead people like that.”

“Seems the Gallies are dragging their feet,” their chief engineer Xi Kai Lin said with a cold sneer. “Tough luck for them.” Most humans felt some degree of dislike for the Galactic Federation and its byzantine bureaucracy. But the short woman hated them with a passion. About twenty years ago, her brother had been killed by the Tloung-hi trade consortium. The short war that followed had not satisfied the woman. She vocally supported taking down the whole Confederation and its moribund ways.

“That’s a bit harsh.” I was unsurprised at her reaction. And though I knew it was a bit useless, I tried to reason with her. “The Dalutians are decent folk, from all I have heard.”

“Not our problem,” Lin retorted.

“I wonder if the Alliance will send aid?” Angela said.

The Terran Alliance was a loose federation consisting of fifty-two human systems. The Constitution was written to vest most of the governmental powers vested in the systems and planets. The Federal government of more a guiding body than a rulemaking one. Only when dealing with foreign governments, interstellar trade, and disasters did the federal government have complete authority.

“Not bloody likely,” Lin snarled. “And why should we?”

“Why shouldn’t we?” I countered.

“I mislike standing by while little’uns die,” Bob drawled. “Not like they got much a’choice over their government, eh?”

“Lin, it is one thing to seek justice. We got that when we went to war with the Tloung-hi. But you just want revenge and that isn’t right. The way I see it, kindness should be the natural way of life, not the exception,” I said. “Compassion is what sets us apart from the beasts. We have a full cargo of food and supplies those people could really use.”

“Whatever. It is not your call. You aren’t the captain,” Lin finished with a grim smile, thinking she won the argument.

“No. But the captain is his cousin, and the ship is owned by their family,” Angel said. “That makes him a part owner, too. Seems he might have a bit of a say after all.”

I tapped my wrist computer to open a com channel to the bridge, “Davis, you got a moment?”

“Yeah. It’s a bit of a dull day. Not much happening. What’s up?” the captain answered.

Davis and I were about the same age and were very close. But we did not let our relationship interfere with the running of the ship.

“Did you see the news about the Dal’tari system?”

“It came across the news channels a bit ago when we hit the last waypoint,” Davis answered. “Why?”

Ships in hyperspace could not change direction. They had to drop out of hyperspace and realign to the new heading before going back crossing back into hyper.

“If we dropped out of hyper and reset, we could be there in what, four days or so?” I could hear him typing queries into the navigation computer.

“About that. Where are you going with this? Or should I be afraid to ask?”

“We have a few million tons of food and supplies those folks really need. It might cost us a bit to cover the breach of contracts with the deliveries. But, if we pressed the good publicity angle, I think most of our clients would support it. Plus, it would be a huge tax write-off.”

“That is a bit above my pay grade. But let me run it up the flagpole and see what the boss says. Prepare to drop out of hyper.”

FTL travel was commonplace and so was FTL communications. But the oddities of the two technologies was that you could not use FTL coms while in hyperspace.

“Have grand-mère put the question to the board. And then have her ask the commerce leagues if they want to join us.”

“You are sure we will get the approval?” Davis was skeptical.

“Come on, you know grand-mère. Good Catholics serve those in the most need. I don’t think anyone in the galaxy has more need right now. She will browbeat the board if she has too.”

Catholic teachings support their giving as an expression of God's love, which leads to a love for one another. I have to admit, I am not that good a Catholic, which always disappointed grand-mère. But I always try spread kindness where he could.

“Maybe you should comm her. Might have a bit more weight coming from a lapsed Catholic like you. Maybe she would think you finally pulled your head outta your ass.”

“Gee thanks. What the hell, I might as well,” he stopped and looked chagrined. “Perhaps not the best turn of phrase, eh? Fine, I will be right up.”

“You have to be kidding me,” Lin groused.

“We can drop you off at New Damascus, if you want,” I said as he left the mess hall.

Cargo ships were by necessity, huge. Larger than the largest warships. But most of the mass was dedicated to cargo holds that were open to space. It was pointless to maintain atmosphere where the crew never needed to go. With a crew of only thirty, the crew spaces were actually very small. The bridge was directly above the mess hall and a quick trip up a narrow ladder, and he was sitting next to the captain.

The bridge was tiny. Warships had large bridges because they needed them, but cargo ships bridges needed space for only a captain, navigator, helmsman and communications. There was an engineering console, but the engineer spent his time in the powerplant or engine room.

“Drop us out of hyper,” Davis commanded.

The helmsman, a young native of Mars named Gabriel Marshall, did not answer but everyone on the ship felt the brief gut-wrenching nausea of breaking the hyperwall as they dropped into normal space. The experienced crew just grimaced and went back to work. Only novices complained.

“Open a channel to home, please Helen,” I asked our communications tech.

FTL comms were tiny wormholes that opened from one discreet point to another. Even their pinhole size required a massive energy output that only a large ship or planet could provide.

“Hello, Star Wanderer,” a voice sounded over the bridge speakers. “What can I do for you?”

“Who is speaking, please,” Davis requested.

“Allíz, dumbass.”

“Allíz? Last I heard you were on the Starsong,” I said.

“Ollie, is that you? Yeah, I was. But then I accidentally got pregnant,” she chuckled. “So, I am stuck at the home office for the next few years.”

It was against company rules for pregnant women to work on starships. The risks to a fetus during space travel were too much to ignore, especially if the woman was family.

“How is Édouard taking it? That is your fourth??

“Fifth. You need to get home more if you cannot keep track of your brother’s kids.”

“Give me a break. I have seven brothers and six sisters. I can barely keep track of my own kids,” I retorted.

“I will make sure and tell Chimere that.”

“Please don’t. That last thing I need is my wife mad at me. But seriously, how is he taking it? He just made captain, but he should take some time off to be at home with you.”

“He is excited. It will be his first girl. He should be home next month and take a year off. Donatienne made sure of that. Your grand-mère is death on any of her boys not being a good father.”

“Speaking of grand-mère. I need to talk to her.”

“Umm. It is 3 a.m. here. Is it important?”

I thought about it for less than a second. “Yes. Go ahead and wake her and patch me through.”

“Well, if she gets mad about it, it will be two months before we get home. Plenty of time for her to get over it,” Davis chided.

“Okay, but it is totally on the two of you if she gets pissed. Connecting now.”

A short period of silence followed before a woman’s tired voice spoke, “Hello, Oliver, Davis. What has gone so wrong that you needed to wake me up so early?”

“Good morning, grand-mère,” I answered. “I am sorry to wake you up but, yes, this is important. Have you seen the news out of Confederation space about the Dal’tari system?”

“Something about a solar flare? I did not pay too much attention to it. I had too much on my plate the past few weeks. What of it?”

“Not a solar flare, grand-mère. More a coronal mass ejection. Dozens of them. It has caused a lot of damage to their system.”

“And you think we can get some products there and get in early on the market?” I heard the interest in her voice.

“No. This is something we have not seen before grand-mère. We are talking the death of a planet and all the people on it. Billions of lives. I just saw footage of hundreds of dead bodies, mostly children. There is no possible way they can evacuate the entire planet and they have no food, little clean water. Where there are no hurricanes and floods, there are such high temperatures that nothing can live.

“I think we need to divert our cargo there. Even get more if we can. Portable power plants, prefab shelters, food, water purification systems, medicine… they need it all.”

“Your cargo can barely put a dent in what they need, Oliver,” she replied. “I have your manifest here. Most of it is useless for a rescue or relief effort.”

“I think we can stop off at New Damascus and offload what they don’t need and load up on what they do,” Davis put in. It was nice to know he was backing me up. “Plus, New Damascus has some of the best medical researchers in the galaxy. They can figure out what medicines the Dalutians need.”

“Still, one ship, even one as large as a Star Caravan, cannot do much.”

“So, you get more. We have thirty of our ships within a week’s travel time. Call up all the other shipping conglomerates. Contact the commerce leagues and Captain’s Guild. You are on Terra. You can contact Yves. He would never have been elected without our support. Have him talk to the Prime Minister. This falls under the Federation’s Constitution. He can mobilize a response.”

“But why would he? I can appreciate what you want to do. But realistically? There is likely not much going to happen. At least not soon.”

“Grand-mère, you told me once when I was a small boy, ‘Doing the right thing is always doing the right thing. Even if nobody else is doing it, if you know in your heart that it is right, follow your heart.’ This is the right thing.”

“I agree, grand-mère,” Davis added. “Probably at no other time in our lives will we be faced with something like this. Either we stand up and do the right thing, or we have lived a life of lies.”

“And if Uncle Claude has any gripes, remind him that all of this makes a great tax write off,” I said.

There was silence for long enough that I began to feel she would not agree. My head swirled with dozens of other arguments. I was willing to go it alone if necessary.

“You are right, boys. You should not have had to work so hard to convince me. Head to New Damascus. I will contact Adaeze Otueome. We went to college together, so long ago. She is the president of Erinlẹ Pharmaceuticals. They have a research and production facility there. I will get Yves to work on the government, though I have little hope on that front.”

“If you get the commerce leagues and Captain’s Guild on our side, then the government will likely join in, even if it is just sending navy hospital ships,” I offered. “Gus Van der Waal is the president of the Guild. Uncle Emil is good friends with him. Get Emil up and talking.”

“Have my wife call Grace Kobliska,” Davis said. “She is a producer on Good Morning, Sol. Something this big deserves media attention. And maybe it can put some pressure on the Prime Minister and the Guild.”

“I will. Head to New Damascus. I will have Operations set up the cargo shift and make sure you have what you need and get some other ships diverted. And boys? I am proud of the two of you. I love you both.”

“We love you, too,” I replied as the circuit cut off.

“Do you think they will sign on for it?” Hellen asked. I had forgotten about the rest of the bridge crew.

“Grand-mère can talk a rock into moving,” Davis replied. “It may take a while, but she is persistent.”

“Not to mention scary when she is pissed. Hell hath no fury like Donatienne Pierre when she does not get her way.” I had seen it before. All it took was the one time for me to decide I never, ever wanted her that pissed at me.

The whole story below

https://archiveofourown.org/users/RWS2871

The wiki of all the characters here https://www.reddit.com/r/Book_of_Mimir/wiki/index/

[jollijeff]

pressurewaves:

from the Terran Trade Authority Handbook of Spacecraft 2000 to 2100 AD

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: We have the means……

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)  

YesterdayShow less

“What do you mean you will not let us land?”

From the confines of his captain’s quarters the bridge crew could not hear the anger radiating from Captain Hazel Abbot. Projected opposite him was the current source of his ire, Sevren Dayton. He was captain of the Verung patrol ship currently blocking his relief vessel from landing on Tevren VI and delivering critically needed medical supplies.

“The native population of Tevren VI has been designated a technologically inferior species and therefore any intervention from space faring species prohibited.”

Dayton spoke as if he was quoting a rulebook word for word which only further infuriated Abbot.

“The Terran Republic does not recognize the standards of the Verung,” Abbot began politely, “and since we are not in Verung territory I must inform you that you have no authority here.”

Dayton’s eye twitched for the briefest of moments but Abbot knew he had struck a nerve. If there was one thing Verung hated it was when other species bowed down to them like they were the third coming of space jesus.

“Under article three section four dash one one seven nine of the Treaty of Nibhishein, the Terran Republic agreed to defer to the Verung in disputed territories.”

Abbot pulled open his data terminal and entered in the mentioned treaty. His eyes darted across the scrolling text before frowning. “The treaty you reference is a trade treaty signed after the Verung War.”

“I believe you mean the “War of Terran Compliance”.” Dayton corrected, but Abbot would not be baited.

“Regardless this matter is excluded from the confines of the treaty as no matter of trade or military aspect is at play.”

Dayton refused to give ground however. “By handing over medical supplies you are instigating the basis for trade; therefore your actions here are covered under the treaty.”

Abbot threw his hands in the air and rose from his chair with such frustration that he knocked over several documents, scattering them to the floor in a blizzard of paper.

“There is no trade here. If they do not get these medical supplies the people of Tevren VI will die within a year.” Abbot’s voice was stern as the boundaries of his patience were fast approaching. “We cannot sit back and let that happen.”

“That is exactly what will happen.”

The measured tone of Dayton’s voice silenced Captain Abbot if only by the disbelief of what he had just heard. Dayton continued further to Abbot’s horror.

“If you were to save these people as you so wish you would be altering their natural evolution. We of higher technological standings cannot play gods, judging who lives and who dies.”

“Do you not hear yourself!?”

Abbot’s rage could no longer be contained over the sheer stupidity of Dayton’s logic.

“You would have us sit by and watch as millions of living breathing people die horribly?!”

Dayton looked into the holographic projector with disgust written all over his face. “It is the will of the universe.”

Abbot looked at the Verung captain dumbfounded. He slouched back into his chair and hung his head between his hands. He could hear the fizzle of the projector unit still active but didn’t care to face Dayton as his mind raced.

“Will you stand down?”

Abbot looked up at Dayton still on the projector and straightened himself up. He pressed the creases from his uniform and wove his hair back into shape before addressing the com unit built into the projector unit.

“Helmsman,” he began as Dayton’s face looked smug, “begin landing procedures as planned.”

“What do you think you are-“ Dayton began but Abbot was not finished.

“Master at arms, if the Verung attempt to block our descent into atmosphere and pose a threat to this vessel you have permission to open fire.”

Dayton’s expression went from shock to outrage as the master at arms acknowledged. Captain Abbot now fixed the Verung with a deathless stare as he clasped his hands together.

“I thank you for your perspective but we have a people to save. If you attempt to halt us again we will consider it an act of aggression and respond appropriately as you have just heard.”

“My government will be informed of this.” Dayton remarked through clenched teeth.

“Good.” Abbot replied. “Then let them know that one does not need to play god to do the right thing.”

[cluboftigerghost]

siryl: This image by Peter Goodfellow of Terran Trade Authority... https://ift.tt/WVx4ynC

[siryl]

This artwork was first published on the cover of the 1979 reprint of the first installment of Space, a young adult science fiction anthology series edited by Richard Davis. It later portrayed the Alphan Doralillow in Starliners, the final Terran Trade Authority Handbook by Stewart Cowley.

“Space I” by Peter Elson is an old piece that’s enjoying renewed fame as the cover for Tales Told and Journeys Imagined by Dave Painchaud.