<b>New York Spaceport<br/>
05:00 Local Time</b><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">Kzzt.</span><br/>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"> ”<i>Good meeeee-OOOOOOoooorning, Am-bitiiiiion Two! You’re listening to Radio “Ambitious Tunes” and this is DJ Rochefellah with an absolutely –packed- schedule I want to throw at y’awl this morning. It’s currently zero-five-hundred hours for you early birds, and I can tell you the weather is magnificent! A storm is currently giving the Atlantic sea a show of a lifetime, and from where I’m sittin’, it’s a damn beauty!</i>”</span><br/>
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- - - - -<br/>
​</div><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"> Captain Emmanuelle “Silverback” Gustave Kgosi shuffled under his bed sheets, awake at least ten minutes before his radio stuttered to life. With the exception of a few operations and Sundays on leave, he always woke at 4.50 AM in the morning – his inner clock made sure of that.<br/>
<br/>
“<i>As y’awl dawgs know, we’re having ourselves an old-school Launch Day, and shieeert, I’mma’ positive I ain’t the only one thinking: “About time!” – all those ladies’ chasing me around on the dock gots me itchin’ for some peace and –quiet-!</i>” the DJ boasted, rolling into an almost childish tittering.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">Kgosi grunted with a drowsy smile spreading on his lips: Rochefellah meshed perfectly with his job – all talk.<br/>
<br/>
The captain swung his legs out onto the floor, two hands sliding across his face as trying to wipe off his sleepiness.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"> He gave the mirror in front of him a casual glare:<br/>
<br/>
Kgosi at times found it hard to believe he was forty-two: Before him sat a man who easily tricked people into thinking he was thirty:</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">The captain was of a firm conviction that you thought the clearest if your mind and body were conditioned to their peak – this reflected in a physique well taken care of. No small midlife potbellies here – on the contrary, feint contours of a six-pack attempted to carve out from the deep, almost black golden-brown skin.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"> His solid, wide-jawed head featured just a few shades of wrinkles here and there, in particular around his relatively small, deep brown eyes. But as a whole, he was unusually healthy of body for an officer. <br/>
<br/>
The only curiosum that made most wonder was the bald head and the silvery white beard that stood in booming contrast to his skin. Kgosi often wondered of this worked in favor of his image as an experienced commander or not.<br/>
<br/>
His room awoke. Pleasant sunlight pooled into the room from the window overlooking Lake Tanganyika in among some sun-scorched trees, creating the perfect illusion that he was residing in a Burundi summer retreat down on Earth – while the old technology of light-luminescent walls and liquid-crystal windows was taken for granted these days, Kgosi couldn’t help but appreciate the difference it made.<br/>
<br/>
“<b>Window off.</b>” He said through a baritone yawn as he got up:<br/>
<br/>
With a simple flick, the image of Lake Tanganyika was replaced by the view of NewYork Interstellar Spaceport: Or rather, the miniscule fraction of the spaceport viewable from the Captains Lodgings: It was often jokingly referred to as the second moon of Earth, seeing it’s incomprehensible size, spanning hundreds of kilometers from one side to another. <br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">The sheer traffic surrounding the spaceport rivaled that of several large cities, only that this wasn’t personal transportation, but huge spaceships from all vocations of life entering and leaving the interstellar space of the Planetary Alliances Earthen cradle.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"> It was no different this morning – even though the captain resided well inside the Military zone of the Spaceport, cargo ships and passenger barges of impressive sizes were easily spotted in the distance, often followed by much smaller vessels, swarming around the lumbering space giants.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<i>…so keep your heads down and don’t let the –brass- catch you oogling them, homeboys! They’ not here to play nice. On that note, it’s time for the “Captain’s Wake-Up Call!”; I’m certain I’ll someday catch him oversleepin’: Maybe today is.. the.. day!</i>” the radio chirped.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">Immediately thereafter, the Captain’s communicator beeped: And within a fraction of a second, Emmanuelle answered, pushing the respond button with his pinky as his hands were covered in shaving gel.<br/>
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“<b>I do not hope you put eh’ bet up on dat, Rochafella’.</b>” Emmanuelle responded through a wide, shining grin he presented to no-one in particular.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<i>I’m stupid, but not that stupid, commander!</i>” the communicator and the radio simultaneously spoke, Rochefellah chuckling on the other end:<br/>
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“<i>LAUNCH day, Commander Kgosi! I’m tellin’ yo’, the boys down here have been –itchin’- to get skyhigh’, but we’ve been talkin’ ‘bout what’s on YOUR mind. I mean, don’t you have golfin’ or some exquisite party with some has-been popular people to do with that paycheck of yours?</i>”<br/>
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Emmanuelle promptly answered through a laugh, his unusual African-english rolling forth:<br/>
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“<b>Oh, do not worry! Di Ambition Two is my secoond home – can’t stiay away from di bridge even if I was chained down like i’ dog.</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<i>Our captain speaking, ladies and gentlemen – he… is.. a… –SOLDIER-, through and through! But enough BS! Captain, we need something gentile and smooooth to wake the engies’ and gunnuts, so I’d like to hear what this mornings’ pick is.</i>”<br/>
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Emmanuelle paused for half a second before responding on the com:<br/>
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“<b>Today, my friend, I bilieve we need a short one – <a class="externalLink" href="http://grooveshark.com/#/s/Serenade+For+Strings+or+Piano+4+Hands+In+C+Major+Op+48+Waltz/40VNUs?src=5" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">from Tchaikovsky , his 48th opera.</a></b>”<br/>
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“<i>I’ve got just the thing, Captain! Good morning!</i>”<br/>
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“<b>And good morning to you.</b>” Emmanuelle grinned, cutting the communication.<br/>
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As the gentile tunes spilled out into hundreds of active radios, so did a thousand people spill into the corridors of the mighty Type 5 “Prescott” Class Destroyer going under the name “CS Ambition II” - like lifeblood rushing through an iron-giant, did the destroyer awaken.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">Emmanuelle conducted his morning rituals with careless precision, that including a fifteen minute sprint on his treadmill while watching the most recent morning newscast from Terra about topics rather detached to him.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">Then game suiting up into his Officers’ Service attire, making and his mandatory first cup of coffee.<br/>
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Armed with a clean shave, an impeccable shave and a cup of Arabica coffee, the captain paused in front of the door leading to the corridors and took a bracing inhale and exhale. With a steeling nod, he hit the “Open” button and stepped outside.<br/>
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Why a man would make such a pause in front of a door, was made abundantly clear the moment he began his morning commute towards the bridge: Being a captain of such a military giant as a Destroyer meant that you had to have ears and eyes on everything and anything – as he simmered into the flock of officers heading to their respective posts throughout the ship, he found himself in company with four people appointed to update him on the daily reports and questions from most departments. They exchanged their formal “Good mornings” and then, straight to business. <br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">These four people wouldn’t leave his side for the fifteen minute walk from his cabin to the bridge, always lining up question upon question, all of which Emmanuelle  had to find sufficient answers for or direct to people who could better handle each situation. He also had to distribute tasks for the various departments to ensure that the “Ambition II” was prepared for launch.<br/>
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His cup of coffee was invaluable for small, second-long breaks as he contemplated the myriad of answers he had to present.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">As the elevator to the Bridge Deck stopped, he and his growing entourage of followers pooled into the corridors: Todays tasks involved mainly last-minute reports from maintenance (Almost all repairs had been done on time; an unusual thing as Emmanuelle could expect about 40 % of all projected repairs to never happen while in dock due to time constraints), pre-launch directives (in order to secure that people didn’t blow stuff up once the destroyer disembarked from the dock) and..</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>We have di S.I.D agents onboard?</b>” the Captain said, his tone of voice betraying his surprise.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“Yes sir: Last minute arrival – all their papers check out. Two of their agents will be present on the bridge throughout our OP.” A lieutenant answered promptly.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">Kgosi gave him an apprehensive glance – S.I.D agents weren’t exactly known for pleasantry-visits, and if they weren’t around to pat Emmanuelle on the back for a “Job well done”, they could only mean trouble.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>Make sure they are lodged accordingleh’, Lieutenant, and give them whateva’ they are asking for.</b>” Kgosi responded, knowing that they had the credentials to access anything irregardless.</span><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">- - - - -</span><br/>
​</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"> <br/>
</span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"> “<span style="color: Sienna"><b>COMMANDER ON DECK!</b></span>”, the X.O. said with his raspy, booming voice.</span><br/>
​</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"> <br/>
Emmanuelle habitually waited two seconds, letting the Bridge crew stand and salute:<br/>
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“<b>As you were.</b>” He said just before sipping from his coffee, not breaking his stride towards the center of the nerve-central and Kgosis home away from home the last four years, the Command Bridge of the “CS Ambition II”.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">The Command Bridge was essentially a large, stretched, round room, its far end covered by a large Command Monitor that could call up information when prompted. The Command Platform, the residence of the Commander, the X.O and whatever necessary personnel needed, dominated the middle. On it was a holographic table aiding the captain in various fashions – ten customizable chairs emerged from the floor around the table, which could be summoned and dismissed by the press of a button.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">Two “Command Circles” hugged around this platform – the “orchestra pit” of the navigation, communication and tactical crew. These circles were broken by the piloting consoles closest to the large wall-monitor up in the front. Two of the seats were manned today.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">Three corridors led out of the Bridge to various parts of the ship – each corridor in question was guarded by two Security soldiers with service handguns. It was generally perceived as a pretty boring job for marines pulling Bridge duty, as the rudimentary days in space compared to days with actual action were overwhelming.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">Even under the dimmed light conditions, all walls and most consoles and monitors were white, with the odd decorative orange appearing occasionally: An emphasis had been made to make this room comfortable and functional at the same time; a necessary philosophy as 14 hour+ shifts weren’t unheard of.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>Good morning, X.O. Readi for diparture?</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<span style="color: Sienna"><b>Aye-aye, captain. Ready to strut this birds’ wings.</b></span>” His X.O. responded – sporting the same outfit as Kgosi, he filled the uniform in an entirely different fashion.<br/>
<br/>
Commander Malcolm “Steeljaw” Osbourne was in some ways the opposite of his superior: while they both shared a fondness for firm decisions, Osbourne was especially aggressive. His hefty frame, one part fat and twenty parts compact, rock-solid muscle gave him a pot belly that could withstand the impact of a cannonball.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"> His northern descent was expressed in his fiery red short boxed beard and his piercing blue eyes. Despite his age of 40, he instead looked like one contemplating his 50th birthday, giving him an ugly, grizzly visage that fit his rowdy and forceful personality but as well his molten-warm spirit and mirth – Kgosi was convinced it’d be harder to find a better X.O., comrade-in-arms and friend at his side.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">Kgosi nodded, inquring:</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>And Ground Control? Have they decidid’ to introduce us to oua’ objectives any further?</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<span style="color: Sienna"><b>Those dogs haven’t said a peep, Captain. Said they weren’t cleared and we might be briefed underway.</b></span>” The X.O. growled in response. <br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">For a rudimentary escort, Ground Control kept their cards surprisingly tight this time around.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">Kgosi murred, took a sip and nodded before activating the ship-wide communicator – Come what may, then: we’ll fly to the ends of the galaxy, he thought for himself:<br/>
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“<b>Attention, Ambition Two: Dis is your Captain speakin’. First of all, good morning on your last day in dock. As you all know we will be escortin’ di “Restless” on oua’ coming OP. It is nothing fanceh’, but I expect all crew to giv’ their best performance. Remind di “Restless” that if they want di job done, they should call for us…</b>”<br/>
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Kgosi grinned as sporadic “Oorah”’s were heard from the Bridge Crew:<br/>
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“<b>… keep it tight, keep it by the books: And if di books aren’t getting shit done, improvise. Captain Out.</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">The captain turned to his crew, saying:<br/>
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“<b>Very well! Let’s get her flyin’ – Navigation, report in!</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“Navigation reports in and ready to fly.”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>Tactical.</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“Tactical is green, sir!”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>Fleet.</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“Frigates report ready, captain.”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>Ground control.</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“Ground Control confirms – they are green, sir.”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>Engines.</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“Engineers report in – all engine systems go.”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>Passinger Quarters.</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“Passenger barges have cleared the launch area.”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>Hanga’ Deck.</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“Hangar Deck reports in – ready for departure.”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>P.R.</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“Personal Resources confirms.”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>Guns.</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“Gunnery Deck reports in. All checks out.”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">A deep, barely noticeable growl resounded through the hull of the destroyer as the engines awoke from their slumber.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>Marines.</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“Barracks reporting in – all personnel accounted for, sir.”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>Cargo Bay.</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“Cargo Bay confirms –we’ve got our lunchpacks.”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>Pilots.</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<span style="color: DarkRed"><i>Pilot reports in – a launch solution and holding pattern has been confirmed sir. Ready to take her out.</i></span>” The first pilot said.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">Kgosi glanced over his shoulder at the X.O. – Osbourne glanced up from the floating monitor produced by the holotable, saying:<br/>
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“<span style="color: Sienna"><b>All systems are green, we are ready to disengage.</b></span>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>Flight Lieutenant Rouge, take her out.</b>” Kgosi said, nodding to the first pilot.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<span style="color: DarkRed"><i>This is CS Ambition II – all systems are go, please initiate disengagement protocol, over.</i></span>” the pilot said, addressing his communicator.<br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“CS Ambition II, this is Ground Control Actual – releasing service arms in T minus Five seconds. Please confirm engine status and navigation package, over.”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<span style="color: DarkRed"><i>That is an affirmative, Ground Control Actual. Engines are live and kickin’, navigation package has been received, we are waiting for your go.</i></span>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">Deft, distant “CLANG”’s vibrated through the hull as the immense service arms dislodged from the Destroyer; the pilot had the foresight to call up external cameras overseeing each dislodging in turn, the monitor showcasing each arm slowly retreating away from the ship.</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“This is Ground Control Actual – service arms 1 through 14 have disengaged, all service crafts have cleared the launch area. “Fly High or Fly Low, but Fly Safe.”.”<br/>
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“<span style="color: DarkRed"><i>This is CS Ambition II, affirmative and thanks – taking her out, and then we will see you when we see you, over and out.</i></span>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">The pilot gently applied pressure on the steering wheel and the iron giant responded in kind, a gentle, almost sleepy groan rolling through its outer shell: The Ambition II gently, almost languidly emerged from the mess of metal, steel and various alloys that constituted the convoluted space station. It took a full four minutes before Flight Lieutenant Rouge reported from piloting:<br/>
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“<span style="color: DarkRed"><i>Captain, the Ambition II has cleared the dock and is flyin’ free, flyin’ high, flyin’ mighty. Proceeding to escort position provided by the Restless.</i></span>”<br/>
<br/>
A sporadic applause erupted in the command bridge – it was considered bad luck if you didn’t commemorate the pilot on launch – before Kgosi said with a satisfied nod:<br/>
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“<b>Thank you, Flight Lieutenant…</b>”<br/>
<br/>
He clicked the com to address the entire ship:<br/>
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“<b>Attention, Ambition Two – we hav’ cleared di dock and we are flying free. As you were. Captain out.</b>”</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">With a click of a button, he then proceeded:</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"><br/>
</span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">“<b>Hailing Restless – this is Commander Kgosi, Ambition Actual, reportin’ in for di escort duty. Relinquishing fleet command to you and awaitin’ your orders – happy to be with you, over.</b>”</span><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'">- - - - -</span><br/>
​</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'"> <br/>
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