Beginning of 'Defection'

Chief Analyst Martin Holdin entered his modest quarters about mid ship aboard the Magister Tutela holding a quarter ream of Crystael[, ultra-thin paper made from resilient crystal. He closed and locked his door, ensuring his privacy. As he aproached his worktable, the chair autamatically folded out and positioned itself in Martin's favored position. He dropped the stack of paper on the table with a highly audible thump and swung the magnifier over the first page. He was the Chief analyst because of his ability to devour and analyze information like no other. He quickly skimmed through the first hundred pages of the report, then slowing down to ensure clear comprehension of the final pages containing the dictation of the Lazian defector, Malthusian Youseff. It contained his life story as told in his own words and the general events that led up to his ultimate defection from the fanatical Lazan.

I grew up on the country-side many kilometers away from the nearest city, which was quite large, nearly a billion souls packed into a spawling swath of massive skypiercers and underground dwellings. The city was called Seoung, but that was about all I knew while growing up. Kilometers of swat makes for a decent insulator for a fragile child mind.Oh, swat is a plant native to planet Penelope, fifth planet out of ten that were populated in the Awakening Dawn solar system, similar to your wheat, but the food is harvested from the stem. We arrived there nearly two thousand years ago, soon after the great scattering was initiated. Our original leaders developed a religious sytem of government, thinking that religious fanaticism would keep the population in check.
It did, for a time. Everyone loved the original monarch. But, when he was assassined, the citizens flew into a rage and swept throught the governing compound on the first planet colonized, Haderous, named after the Great Monarch, and tore down the standing, corrupt government and replaced it with a more placating corruption. That kept the peace until ten years ago, when fanatical hoards began a bloody jihad once the six nations were discovered. At that time, our population, which was spread across twenty planets in twelve systems, had grown to over two trillion souls. You could do little more than brace for the aweful impact of religous fervor.
But, of course, you are more interested in my past, my reasons for defecting, and whatever information can be gathered to aid in your repulsion of my people.
As I said, I grew up on the edge of a massive city, dissallusioned by my parents as to what our reality was really like. I lived peacefully with my family as an ignorant farmboy, helping my father tend our giant fields of dense swat in order to help feed the ravenous, ever-hungry maw of Seoung. It was not until I was fifteen and coming of age that the recruiters came and set up the propaganda films and began stealing the imaginations of the impressionable youths and practical sensibilty of the conservative farmers, which were in great abundance. But my father was a littele more skeptical than the others. Where they welcomed the recruiters into their homes with open arms, he allowed one to dine with him privately. Of course, I was allowed to eavesdrop. My father raised me to make the most informed descicions that I could, and would not deprive me of any for the descision to enlist in the military.
My father and the ever-positive recruiter sat down to a hearty meal of roast beef and spiced swat, with cold milk to wash everything down. Of course, the recruiter was most gracious. As with tradition, nothing of importance was discussed during the meal. Afterward, the recruiter initiated the comversation.
"So, Mr.Youseff, how have things been for your family?"
He eyed him curiously, "We get by alright. Your arrival 'as caused quite a stir in the community." Refering to to the recruiters.
"So, we have. And I'm sure you very well know why."
"I only know what I've heard."
"What's that?"
"Not much. We were attacked by a horde of heretics. Now you need volunteers to repell this foe."
"Yes, yes. That is all true. But I know that some of you-"
Interruptin the recruiter, Youseff accuses, "You what?"
"Oh, I mean no disrespect. I am simply saying that it is known that farmers, such as yourself have been known to be quite resistant to the notion of patriotism."
"Yeah, an' we have good reason to. Your government has not shown much care for us. Just last year, we barely made it through the winter 'cause of a hard blight on the wat, and all you guys did was demand more wat. We had to sell off most of our private crops. A few good men died to feed their family their portions of food. Now, give me a good reason to take up your offer."
The recruiter looked unsure for a moment but then regained his composure, "We can ensure your family will never go without. It's the least we could do for your service. As long as we can spare the resources, they shall never go hungry. Now, that must be an offer you cannot refuse. Isn't it the goal of any husband, moreso a father, to provide their family a life without depravity?"
My father's brow was deeply furrowed. He was obviously torn, "You may have no idea how much it hurts to see your family go without."
"Oh, I know very well. I was a father once as well."
My father glared harshly into the recruiter's eyes and gradually softened his expression, "I s'pose you do. I'll consider your offer. Now, I bid you farewell. Your welcome has worn thin."
"Very good. A peaceful night to you."
Father only grunted in return as the recruiter made his way out. He saw me as he was opening the door and winked.
A short time later, Father sent me to bed. I obeyed, thinking over what had happened.
As you have geussed, Father enlisted with the knowledge that his family would be provided for. For a few years afterward, I took his place in the fields operating the massive collectors. And, in keeping his word, a regular shipment of food and basic amenities began to arrive. By the third year, I was eighteen years old and we learned my father died in action. Just as sudden as his death, the shippments became irregular due to greater strains of the ongoing war. Things got bad at my home, since most of the food we harvested went to feeding the many hungry soldiers. Thee was little left for us. To escape it all, I enlisted and was shipped off to some distant place.
I had never travelled through space, but it was not terribly exciting. And we didn't have much time to dwell on that, since we had our basic training courses en-route to the frontline. The vessel that was to be my home for four grueling months was just about overwhelming to a moderately educated country boy like me. As you well know, it requires vast economical means to construct a smooth, finished exterior on the gargantuan machines of war. It is already known by most that our main battleships far out-sizes your largest ships by at least tenfold. Using the slave labor from prisoners of war, we hoolow out large asteroids and insert whatever we need to make it capable of preseving human life. Around a million tons of mostly steel is arrayed all about the interior, creating a super-stable honeycomb that contains many sections that could be sealed in event of decompression. At the center of the marvel of engineering, a lump of ultra-dense material retrieved from a neutron star would be placed in the center, providing limited gravity; our two peoples advanced aty different rates. We have great feats of engineering, you have fine technology. That provides us both with different advantages.
Of course, I was never told any specifics about the interior during my initial training., only the outside terrain. Just about every waking hour was dedicated to mastering our minds, bodies, and terrain. We were told, that, not withstanding any advancement, we would probably spend the rest of our lives defnding this ship, our new home. Probably, if the drill sergeant had not noticed my unusual eyes and forced more out of me, I would never have escaped that blasted rock. On those vessels, you advanced "downward" toward the center. The rocky skin of the vessel was laced with an intricate lacing of rails, ort of like a giant knitted ball. The rails held hundreds of thousands of mobile turrets, so none is a stationary target. The rails were protected by a strange forcefeild stolen from an isolated alien race. You can get the designs for most of our military structures from my ship's datbase.
Yes, we discovered several examples of alien intelligence, in fact, the race we procured the shielding technology from had not even achieved extra solar travell, but was already far more advanced than both our societies combined. We never got their names, we were barely able to steal the schematics for that forcefield, that's why it is such a rudimentary form. We unofficially dubbed them, The Oddkind. The did not seem to have any interest in expanding beyond their own home system.
I warn you, there are creatures worse than us out there. Dark swarms that blott out the stars, small capsules of ships with wings of pure black stretching for kilometers. We haven't the foggiest idea what they are made of, and how extensive their civilisation is. Some say they have been spreading through the universe for millions of years. Be grateful they show no interest in our bickering.
As I was saying, I was lucky enough to gain advancement into the ship training to be an officer. Apparently, the seargeant recognized me as some sort of genius, she was not sure at the time. I have to say, she was proud to learn that I was perfect material for a command position. Its the goal of most combat teachers to save at least one soul from the ravages of the "exterior". I never forgot her smile, that canyon of a scar running from the corner of her mouth to her ear. It was especially swollen with pride that day....Her name was Donnia. She became my wife of fifty years. Yes, we stole your anti-senescene treatments. Now I have no clue how long I have to suffer through life apart from my beloved. You are my second most hated enemy, since you will never let my retrieve my wife. The probably told her that I am a traitor. She knows I am not. We had discussed leaving on many occasions, but never had the proper catalyst. When that catalyst finnally came, she was so far away. There was no time.

Holdin stopped reading at looked at video feed of a scarred woman sitting at an interrogation table. She called herself Donnia. He sighed with genuine feeling toward this couple's tragedy. So close, yet so far. He thought to himself about the terrible luck that they would probably never see each other again.