Captain Tom 'Hurl' Gregory's command chair kicked him in the back as the FTL tunnel evaporated. The colour out the viewport coalesced into the painful brightness of Helios, the smallest, shittiest, least useful system in the Imperium.
He stroked his command chair's arm rest. TCN Concordia. A grand name, a grand ship, playing tramp freighter on its retirement tour. It was almost an insult.
Sighing, he unstrapped and walked past the communication pit to the astrogation station. Holographic details flittered across the octagonal view panes ahead, the battle computer running threat analyses on every object in range.
"We'll do this like the last system," Tom said to the bridge crew. "Get in, do a dance, flash a smile, and get out as soon as possible." He raised his voice for the punch line but received few smiles. The in-joke was wearing thin, just like the tour. The crew were already prepping for their next assignment. Tom hadn't considered his next step. He had another couple of years, if he wanted them.
He spun back to the pit. "Contact the Defence Platform. I want their sitrep on my chair in five minutes." He strode past a chorus of 'aye-ayes' to his chair.
Instructions bounced from officer to officer, the efficient clicks of mag boots rolling along the deck. If I take another command I'll get one of the new boats with that anti-grav tech.
The report appeared on his chair's readout. Sporadic and ineffective pirate incursions. One ship made a suicide run on the planet itself, while a few others had tried – and failed – to take on the Armadillos. A slow week by all accounts.
He looked up to the viewport, the vibration of the prime movers rattling up through his chair, and watched the crystal ball of The Gift grow before him. "Geosynchronous orbit," he instructed his XO, who relayed the commands, "over the main settlement." It was just a research station but even scientists could be wowed and a two thousand metre long battleship hanging directly overhead normally qualified.
His XO kept barking orders at the crew. They possibly moved faster under her orders than his. That devil woman has a real future, he thought, though he'd be damned if he'd say that to her face.
"Orbit achieved," she said.
"In coming signal from the planet," called a tech from the pit. "Chief Lorenzo."
"Put him on screen." It amused Tom that the scientists top rank was equivalent to an enlisted crewman.
The view of The Gift dissolved into a sharp edged man with stencilled black hair, black eyes and a big mole on the right side of his chin. He gave a curt nod. "Captain Gregory, welcome to Helios."
"Chief Lorenzo," replied Tom. "Thank you for your hospitality. We have the requested supplies in our hold: foodstuffs from the Messiers system, laboratory equipment from Pleiades."
"Thank you Captain. The Emperor's tribute is ready for uplifting at your convenience. In addition, we have studied a recent interloper's ship and have sent the details to Central Dynamics. They have asked for the wreckage to be uplifted as well."
Tom narrowed his eyes. CD was a core supplier to the navy and if they saw some advantage in a pirate detritus, fine, but the safety of his ship was paramount. He glanced at his XO who was already checking for updated orders. She nodded.
"I'll have nothing brought aboard my ship until I've had my own crew scan it." He thought for a moment. "I'll bring down a shuttle personally."