The armor for scouts wasn't as strong as Dragoon armor. It was made for optimizing speed, carrying fewer weapons and even less armor. So, even though getting blasted while wearing scout armor wasn't as bad as getting blasted without it, you were still in trouble. The scout that was laid on the stretcher, being wheeled double time through the halls of Rose Dome's Cell 1 hideout, wasn't looking too great. He must have taken a frag directly to his left side, as most of the armor was gone there, revealing the arming jacket underneath, slightly bonded to the still smoking pink flesh it contained. Some sort of high heat impact weapon. Scorch marks were heavy around the hole, and the armor had them all over the place.

This scout had been running from something, either one thing that was huge and powerful, or several small things.

His helmet was off and a breather was strapped over his face. As Cori and Tomas ran up beside the stretcher, an expression of recognition crossed his face. He struggled to pull the breather away from his face. He was covered in sweat and dirt, or was that sweat and burn marks.

“Comm—Commander,” he said in a weak and growly voice.

“That's me,” Cori said, bringing her face close.

The scout's arms were weak, so when he tried to open a compartment on his hip, the motion just came across as a pawing. Cori understood the gesture, reached for it, opening the seal, pulling out a PCNC.

“P-please,” the scout began, sputtering up a little blood, “must get to l-leadersss.”

He was shaking now. Cori ripped a glove off the suit, grabbing his bare hand with her right hand. She squeezed it, he was gripping back. He was squeezing her hand harder than she could ever return the gesture. Holding her hand like he didn't want to leave the room.

“Come on,” she said, looking directly into his eyes, trying to impart him something to hold on as long as possible, “you were strong enough to get here.”

His trembling didn't increase, he gritted his teeth, reading himself for a sentence.

“You—you have to get that to the l-leadership,” the 'p' sound in leadership almost got him, another sputter came out of his mouth, “data in—in--in there. More important than—any--any of--”

His trembling abruptly stopped. He was gone. His grip released and his hand fell from Cori's. Everything around the stretcher stopped, Cori, Tomas, doctors, and nurses were silent for a long time.

Cori broke the silent stare, holding the small, black device up. She looked to Tomas, who shrugged. She motioned for him to follow, but ordered the doctors before leaving, “make sure this one gets treated properly. Get me his information before midnight, make sure he's prepped for a proper burial.”

Cori and Tomas were walking to the briefing rooms, choosing an empty one, they closed the door. Coleman was currently on watch, keeping an eye on things outside. He alerted them to the scout, helped the man get in, then went back out to make sure the scout wasn't followed. They'd show him whatever was on this computer after they figured out what was so important. But, they wanted as much privacy as possible, in case the data was sensitive.

Tomas said, somewhat distractedly, “whatever is on that thing, it must've been damn important. For a scout, for anyone, to continue in that condition...”

Cori said nothing, plugging the little computer into the center of the large table which occupied most of the room. Nothing happened at first, which made them think that maybe the PCNC was damaged, but then they realized, there must be a lot of stuff on it.

The screen on the wall lit up. The PCNC's default desktop showed, several thousand icons were spread across it. Icons on a PCNC weren't static images linking to the files on the rest of the computer. Each one was a set of data, independent of the rest. But, when data links were needed to be link in some related way, they were thrown into stacks. The PCNC was nothing but stacks. They were huge stacks, like virtual magazines or books sitting in columns. There were maybe two hundred stacks, each containing anywhere from 10 to 200 hundred icons. What could take up so much space on this thing.

She was immediately attracted to a stack with a vid playing on the top icon. She picked up the stylus resting on the table next to the PCNC connector, standing upright in its little sheath, she walked up to the screen and tapped it to the vid icon. The video expanded to full screen, displaying a handheld camera view, out of a viewport on a spaceship somewhere. Across the blackness, there was a construction dock. Inside the dock was a massive vessel. The handheld focused on this for a while, then panned to the left, showing a red horizon growing larger. A ship was being built above Mars.

Cori looked back at Tomas. He could only shrug. They watch the vid to the end, the construction site passing by, the camera trying to get as much as possible. When it zoomed in on the construction grid, Cori and Tomas could see a pointed front to the ship. She asked him, “is that a dreadnaught-class?”

He thought for a moment, ransacking his memory for ship information, analyzing the ship's shape on the vid. He said, “I think so. It's hard to tell with all the construction stuff wrapped around it. That front is definitely the front of a large warship. It's like a dreadnaught, but it's larger. I'd say it's more like a super dreadnaught-class.”

Cori nodded, as if she knew exactly what he was talking about, but a super dreadnaught was something new to her.

“I'm guessing you've never heard that term?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Well, Earth wanted something larger than our largest. When I was in school, dreadnaughts were rare, but there was talk of making something larger. I think the most common size was heavy destroyer, at that point. But now, dreadnaughts are the cornerstone of Earth's expeditionary forces. I guess they want something bigger to impress all the aliens.”

With the vid finished, Cori eyed around the crowded desktop. One a visor this would involve zoom-ins and zoom-outs. On this big screen, you could just barely read the little tags on the stacks. The video stack had more, but she didn't want to waste time looking at shots of space.

The upper left corner had the shortest stack. One item. Label: Urgent. She tapped it. A text document filled the screen.

“These must be the instructions,” Tomas said. Looking at everything.

Cori was a much faster reader than him, her eyes halfway down the document. When she finished, he was around a third of the way down. Cori decided to summarize.

“It says this needs to taken to Wells Dome. The leadership cell there ordered this information complied from about twenty sources from all over.”

Tomas had stopped reading and was listening to her, he started to pace, his mind working on tactics on how to get this to Wells quickly and safely. His mind worked faster than her's on strategy. Cori worked faster on tactics though. He took this in to his planning, so together, they could probably get this thing to the proper people easily.

“The plans aren't listed here but I can gather that the resistance is going to do something to that new super dreadnaught. Destroy it or steal it. The wording here seems to reference more data regarding the construction site's defenses than anything, so I think they're leaning towards destroy. But, it mentions that more data gathering would help lead to a decision.”

Tomas heard a new thread to that sentence. Cori may have something to contribute. He didn't say anything, letting her summarize things more.

“It gives orders to the scout that was taking this that should he find trouble, to destroy it. Apparently, Rose was just a stop along the way for him. His route was chosen for him, jumping from cell-to-cell. He's been to Amber and Regal, and then he'd go to Burroughs and finish off at Wells.”

Tomas knew what she was going to say next.

“So, we need to complete these orders somehow. Either do it ourselves or send trusted people to do it.”

Tomas said, “well, the two of us and a small squad could get things moving faster and probably keep this safer than just some normal troops. And...”

Cori was distracted now, her eyes wide. She was listening to something, but not Tomas' voice. He stopped, listened.

Thump. One. Two. Thump. One. Two. Three. Thump. One. Thump.

“That's, that's not the Inquisition,” he began, but Cori's gaze stopped him.

“It's,” he realized, “it's a raid?!”

Cori dropped the stylus, grabbed the PCNC, and ran out of the room. He followed closely.

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Author Guidance for This Story

Beyond this simple door The world pulses with light and energy But behind it, in the shadows In a space contained and darkened Here we are You...

excerpt from Closet Box   by Lion