Borodin's Predicament
The blinding light of the sun illuminated the solar panels of Captain Borodin’s command right on cue, the ship drifting out from behind the cover of the red planet and into the events of the day. From a television screen adorning one of the walls of his quarters he was tracking the rendezvous process from the point of view of one of the hull cameras. Fifty meters anti-spinward of Borodin’s ship was one of the new Hegemony Ships, ordered by the new government to alleviate issues of overextension within the inner Systems Commonwealth, or so the official headline went. An experienced captain such as Borodin was well aware that the United Imperial Federation had nearly all of its logistics needs covered since shortly after the System War, and that such a massive ship could realistically only be used for one job.
Jool was on the mind of every single officer in the Commonwealth Solar Navy, colloquially known as the Starfleet, and on the lips of every enlisted man in her service. The green jewel of the solar system, the titan holding within its grasp five moons, three of which were planets of their own, and one of which - Laythe - was the pearl in the planetary system’s oyster shell. It was there, Borodin thought, that he’d like to retire one day. An idyllic place only slightly less picturesque than the painting-like scenes of Psyletvia, the land of his birth, it was only fitting for the knight-errant of North Point to put down roots in a land so similar to the one he’d left for adventure.
Under Borodin’s flag were his flagship, the cruiser Peridot, and her sister Granitsmore, and the destroyers Kand and Elizavet. The Peridot and Granitsmore were almost half a century old, a marker of the relative technological stagnation of the period. Kand, and Elizavet were comparatively newer, having been built in the waning years of the previous century with a new armor scheme and an absurd amount of fuel, ostensibly for patrolling the inner system where the delta V penalties were higher. Borodin was sure he knew the real reason for their construction, just as he was sure about the impetus for the colossal tanker his ship was pulling gently alongside.
Soon later, the doors to Borodin’s spacious room opened and on the threshold stood another captain, presumably that of the Hegemony Ship docked at the moment, with an outstretched hand holding an envelope. An envelope! Borodin hadn’t seen one of those since long before he left Kerbin, and was instantly reminded of home, for better or for worse. He pushed himself off his wall and floated down in the weightless environment to where the silent captain stood, accepting the letter before touching off the floor to return to where he was resting before. The strange captain turned around without a word and somehow walked out and into the rest of the crew deck, door sliding shut behind him. Strange boots, Borodin thought.
Almost immediately, through years of experience, Borodin pieced together the context clues, also noting that the strange captain did not address him or request permission to enter his quarters, simply remaining on the threshold, as intelligence officers, never agents, as he’d learned well, were directed to do. Having been in the naval intelligence for a short period of time early in his career, he’d since then committed intelligence etiquette to memory. The boots gave the officer away as well, being an extremely rare and prototype item, and still as yet impractical for a run of the mill Navy man. Now knowing the space postman’s background, Borodin sought to open the letter at once. Its contents did not surprise him in the slightest.