Captain Spitzer stepped up to the table and gestured Stationmaster Magnussen to the table. When he joined her, she turned her attention to the Station Councilors. “I’m sure that Stationmaster Magnussen is as sorely disappointed in your reactions as I am.” She let that sink in for a moment and continued. “It’s hardly fitting to protest the support of those who are defending you. One of the more recent strikes by the Plasmoids has taken place not too far from you in space, and you are clearly in the area of aggression.”
She gestured to the captains around her. “While our ships do have some self-sustaining capacity, there are certain needs that can only be met with the support of stations, and thus we must rely on you to replenish and recharge. Properly supported we can be at our best in your defense.”
She turned to Stationmaster Magnussen. “Have you ever seen the Starmada default on its debt?”
He looked at her for a moment, wondering at her intentions. “No, Captain Spitzer. They’ve always paid on time and with a competitive interest rate, or they have offset it with tariff reductions from the Congress.”
Captain Spitzer looked back to the Councilors. “Didn’t the latest tariff reduction provide you with enough revenue that you were able to nearly double the size of your station? And wouldn’t this next reduction in tariff and tax give you enough to be able to begin the terraformation of Tiranna and Orihime around Zhi Nu?”
She gestured to Stationmaster Magnussen. “Have you any words for your Councilors and their behavior?”
She watched as Magnussen puffed out his chest and looked imperiously at the Councilors. “I do indeed. I think we may need to call stationwide elections in light of events if these Councilors don’t see fit to care for the best interest of their citizens.” He walked around the table and closer to the seated delegates. “You cannot believe that your quality of life would somehow change? I will tell you that without your support for the Starmada and their crews, you’d best consider an inward migration toward Earth, because this station will fall. The Sagitarrians will not defend us – they must watch their own systems, systems which the Starmada will likely defend.”
The onus had at last fallen upon the gathered Councilors, and Captain Spitzer stepped forward. “My ship was assaulted as you must certainly know. In their surprise attack they had captured seven of my crewmen, and before I could reach them, they had killed four of them, and a fifth succumbed to his wounds gained at their hands. They will come as a plague of locusts, and if we are not here to defend them, your politics and position of authority will not matter in the least. You will be as grain to be harvested.”
The room was silent, and she turned to Magnussen. “Well, Stationmaster, I think we should put it to vote.”
Stationmaster Magnussen smiled. “I believe you’re right, Captain Spitzer. I don’t think we need further debate on the subject.” As he grasped the gavel to his right, the screen behind them flashed to life, showing the ops-core of the station. A man clad in black and sporting a monoggle greeted them all. “Stationmaster Magnussen, Captains, Councillors. We have word from an incoming freighter.”
Magnussen rested the gavel on the table. “What news, Mr. Matthews?”
Matthews gestured and the screen flared blue on the left half, showing the freighter on system buoy optics. “It appears that it was attacked, but according to the reports from the Captain, the militia of Mezhdusharskiy were able to put the attackers to flight. That was a relative three weeks ago.”
Stationmaster turned to Captains Spitzer, Schwann, Montemoro and Romanov. “What would you gauge from this interaction?”
Captain Spitzer turned to look at the Captains, but Mistelsbog stepped forward. “Captain Spitzer, Stationmaster, if I may interject?”
Magnussen waved his hand toward the Yrgoan and Mistelsbog turned to the Captains and Councilors. “It would be my guess that this was a simple reconnaissance sortie, and they are appraising our defensive abilities. We must innovate, and quickly if we are to repel them.”
Mr. Matthews called out. “Stationmaster, we’ve just had a relay from the nearest transitional radio satellite – we’ve had similar incursions all along the Vega reach, and the Sagittarians are reporting similar sorties.”
Magnussen looked at Mistelsbog, his face gone hard. “It would seem, Mistelsbog, that you are right in your appraisal of the situation. Do you have any suggestions? Or do the Captains?”
Mistelsbog looked at Captain Spitzer who gestured he continue. He paused for a moment and set his chin a bit higher. “I wouldn’t presume to tell you how to defend your stations, but it is likely that these incursions will be followed by an actual attack. There’s no knowing what sort of time there would be between the scouting raid and the assault. Were it to me, I would not leave a moment pass before I began preparations against them. Captain Spitzer has a goodly amount of intelligence to offer regarding perceived weaknesses of the Plasmoids.”
He turned to the gathered Captains. “I’m certain that at least our gathered Captains here wouldn’t mind a little exercise of ‘War Games’ to get your station and system defenses to the ready.”
Captain Spitzer caught Mistelsbog’s gaze and stepped forward. “We’d be happy to, Stationmaster. For that matter, while the Mediterranean ships finish some retrofits and upgrades we could also help to ferry whatever materiel and satellites are necessary to the edges of your system.”
The Stationmaster stepped forward with a glower at the gathered Councilors and rapped the gavel on the podium. “I suppose, then, that we must cast a vote as a station council. The motion is put forward to utilize the offered help of the Starmada to prepare our station for a possible incursion. As sub-clause it is motioned that we support them in exchange for their help in preparing and protecting our star system, as requested by the Condominium Congress.”
A lady councilor clad in red rose from the crowd, her silver hair flowing back over her shoulders. “Red Section stands in favor of the measure.” The councilors behind her, all clad in varying hues of ruby, rose as one and stood at attention.
At the other side of the Councilors, a handful of Councilors lead by a man of Chinese descent rose. “White Section will stand in favor of the measure, one dissenting.”
The vote proceeded quickly with Black, Green, Purple and Yellow rising in favor of the vote with only one dissenting vote in each section, and it became clear that this Councilor represented the industrial ring at the outer edge of the station. The final segment of the station, Orange was headed by a ruddy-complected Russian who sat staunchly in his seat. “Orange will not support the vote. While we recognize the need for security, the cost in productivity and efficiency is not deemed necessary. Only one vote stands in favor of the measure.”
The Stationmaster rapped his gavel down on the surface of the podium. “The measure is voted and passed. Thank you Councilors.” He turned to face Captain Spitzer and the others. “Thank you for protecting us – we’ll get our production sector to work on the buoys and other machinery you’ll need to protect the station.”
Captain Spitzer looked at him. “We’ll be ready. In the meantime, I think it best that we all return to our ships and wait until we’re ready to begin our next maneuvers.”
The Stationmaster nodded. “Agreed, Captain. And thank you for your support.”
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