To The Bretonian Armed Forces High Command

[Cælumaresh]

-Incoming Transmission-
-Sender: 91st|HMS-Dauntless-
-Captain John McCall-
-Subject: The .Flares-



Sir, we are getting repeated reports of Armed Forces vessels being blown to smithereens by the .Flare vessels. I wish to ask for permission to terminate these vessels with extreme prejudice starting from the moment that you grant me. These vessels are starting to become an increased danger and they are actively supporting the Gallic Royal Navy.

With regards,

Captain John McCall
Her Majesty's Ship the Dauntless

---

This Galaxy is vast; its wonders and beauty are almost unfathomable. But the galaxy also hides dark secrets, some of which have lain dormant since the beginning of time itself. There is a danger in secrets, both in seeking and in knowing. Some things are meant to be hidden from view. Some mysteries defy understanding, and sometimes even the things we think we know are untrue. Some secrets should remain untouched.

Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum

[Cælumaresh]

-Incoming Transmission-
-Sender: 91st|HMS-Dauntless-
-Captain John McCall-
-Subject: The .Flares-



Sir, we are getting repeated reports of Armed Forces vessels being blown to smithereens by the .Flare vessels. I wish to ask for permission to terminate these vessels with extreme prejudice starting from the moment that you grant me. These vessels are starting to become an increased danger and they are actively supporting the Gallic Royal Navy.

With regards,

Captain John McCall
Her Majesty's Ship the Dauntless

-AUTO RESENDING TRANSMISSION-

---

This Galaxy is vast; its wonders and beauty are almost unfathomable. But the galaxy also hides dark secrets, some of which have lain dormant since the beginning of time itself. There is a danger in secrets, both in seeking and in knowing. Some things are meant to be hidden from view. Some mysteries defy understanding, and sometimes even the things we think we know are untrue. Some secrets should remain untouched.

Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum

[Thunderer]

- Incoming Transmission -

-= Medium Encryption =-

Priority: Low
To: Secondary Fleet Captain John McCall
From: Commodore George Richard Hall
Location: Planet New London, New London System
Subject: Reply

George has had a dream last night. A nightmare, to be more precise. He hates mechanized factories for many reasons involving smog, stench, and growing numbers of unemployed citizens who knock on his door every day, asking for a plate of yesterday's soup. They sometimes even go so far to ask for a fresh sandwich with ham. Unfortunately for him, George had a dream exactly about factories.
At first, he was in a dark, metal, cold, empty chamber. Everything was quiet. It smelled like sewers. Suddenly, there was a metallic bang, which was followed by the sound of iron gears turning. Or were those chains clanking , as they were dragged over something also made of steel? Maybe both. The sound of water flowing could now also be heard. The smell intensified. The chamber got lit up a bit, enough to see the objects around. They were made of iron, almost black of oxidation. There were a few spiderwebs scattered around the corners and below the objects, or machines, what they resembled of most. It did smell like sewers, but it wasn't sewers, or at least not as George imagined it. It looked much more like an abandoned part of the spaceship factory George had visited a few days ago. He is having slightly different versions of this dream from back then, repeatedly. The stinky water flowed into something resembling a tank, but covered with all sorts of measurers and little, multicoloured bulbs, occasionally flashing a weak light. Excluding the water, something else was poured into it by another tube. It reminded George of dark coffee. There was a production line after the tank. Some mechanism was extracting plate-sized, flat, jelly pieces of something from the tank, which were probably gotten by mixing the water and the liquid which looked like coffee. It was placing them on the production line, which lead to another machine. It was compressing the pieces of something. The next part of the line was empty. Or it at least seemed so, at the beginning. Suddenly, a huge load of cockroaches just fell from an opening on the ceiling on the products. They didn't seem to eat them. The firstly ran around on their surface, and then turned their bellies and stopped moving. Another press fused the insects and the somethings together. All that went to another clumsy stack of screechy plates, tanks, gears, and chains. There was another production line leading to it, forming a corner around George with the previous one. It carried nothing unidentifiable, nor even unusual. As George determined, it was carrying baguettes into the last machine, and fusing them with the something. After the machine, there was a tall, thin stand, supporting a tea cup. A white, thin, modestly ornate tea cup. Some yellow light lit it well, uncovering the cup's frail, gentle transparency. A thin, iron tube led from the machine to the cup. The machine stopped gurgling and started quietly buzzing. The product was ready and it was about to be uncovered. Something started pouring from the tube. George approached to take a look.
It was tea.
He woke up with a scream. It was Devonshire cream tea, his favourite.
Another workday has started. That was a few hours before, but its effect has all but diminished. Maybe just slightly.

"Good afternoon, Mister McCall. We have well received your message. I am sorry to disappoint you, but...

His face gets the look of every banker after you pay off the original price.

"I'm afraid there was a mistake when your vessel was christened. Namely, there already is a Dauntless in Her Majesty's fleet, a Dunkirk class battleship. For a long time already. It might... It might actually be the reason why they forgot that. Tell them to rename your ship, please. At once, if possible."

His starts looking less interested. Or more uninterested, to be correct.

"Oh, and about those so called "Flares". I've never met them, but I've already heard enough angering reports about them. Dispose of the Flares, every time you can. Good bye."

He said "good bye" like he had quite limited time to do it.

"Go now. You have work to do."

He turns his head somewhere away and waves McCall like he's repelling mosquitoes.

- Message Over -

---

Bretonian Treaty Database Bretonian Armed Forces Recruitment Center
Bretonian Charter of Interstellar Law Bretonian Secrets Act

[Cælumaresh]

-Incoming transmission-
-ID: John McCall-

Thank you for your answer sir, we will terminate these flares with extreme prejudice. Coming to the ship name it will be renamed as we speak.

I hope i have informed you enough.

Captain McCall signing off.

-End of transmission-

---

This Galaxy is vast; its wonders and beauty are almost unfathomable. But the galaxy also hides dark secrets, some of which have lain dormant since the beginning of time itself. There is a danger in secrets, both in seeking and in knowing. Some things are meant to be hidden from view. Some mysteries defy understanding, and sometimes even the things we think we know are untrue. Some secrets should remain untouched.

Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum