Wesley Richter

[Zapp]

Admiral Hoffman, with ceremonial grandeur, sent the report to the Kanzler on the best secured communication frequency he could. He sat there for a moment, staring at something unseen beyond the computer monitor that was now displaying the Message Sent message in a box of dark green, text as black as midnight in the wilderness. Just then the communicator beeped, and the computer, sensing the call, redirected it from his belt-holstered device to the screen.

Lacking a video feed, the box on the screen was filled with undulating bars that changed with the type of waves it was receiving. A rather frightened marine reported what had happened second-hand from the Hazmat team, and the Admiral was out of his chair and on the next lift to the flight deck he could catch.

~ ~ ~

Niklaus Reinhardt, Kanzler of Rheinland, got the report from Admiral Hoffman. It would normally have been put on hold behind a couple dozen other matters of state that preoccupied Reinhardts time, but the urgency was underwritten on the channel it was used on. Misuse of this channel had been punishable by extreme consequences, including stripping of rank or privileges, for as long as anyone could remember, and that wasnt about to change. Dropping the matter he was on, he opened the message and read the report from Wesley Richter. The name rang a bell something about a screw up that had made it in on his flying skills alone, and he believed it by the report. Reinhardt, who had thought he had seen it all in his years in his office, was shocked by the report. His eyebrows rose more and more, and on seeing the scans of not only the Nomad Power Cell but the Scorpion gunboats, and the weaponry outfitted on the Wild elite fighters. And that that thing

He hit the communicator button, which sent a communication to his secretary.

I want Admiral Hoffman on the line, and tell him I want Wesley Richter in here yesterday.

~ ~ ~

Meanwhile, Hoffman was staring at an unremarkable Wrath sitting on a landing pad like any other. It wasnt moving, twitching, shaking, glowing blue, or doing anything mischievous. It didnt look like it had just been possessed by an unknown Nomad entity, and Hoffman was looking at it dubiously, as if he didnt entirely believe the man who was still fully suited in Hazmat gear.

No, no, Hoffman said, holding his hands up to forestall the stout man, I believe you. Its just...

He couldnt finish his sentence, as at that moment his communicator beeped. He picked it up, and listened, eyes growing wider, nodding his head. Turning his attention away from the communicator for a second, he gave the Hazmat team leader a gesture that said he really had to go, and he left.

~ ~ ~

Up five levels, towards the forward section of the ship was the medical ward. In a bed, the healing Wesley Richter thrashed slightly, as if of an epileptic seizure. The doctors looked puzzled the charts said nothing was out of the norm; his heart-rate and breath-rate were both stable. All attempts at stabilization were for naught. Then, after about five minutes, he stopped of his own accord. The lead doctor made a note in the days log, but the mystery wasnt pursued further.