AN: Before I go into this I'll just ask you guys to bear with me. Yes, First Contact is being rewritten... again. Now please hold your misgivings until the end. I know I have a penchant for rewriting stories, but that's simply because I want to have everything go right. And I felt that the previous iteration, while not terrible, lacked a certain... realism, to it. As I plan this to be a fairly huge undertaking, I want this story to go as perfectly as I can make it. But, I can promise you all that this will be the final draft, no more going back. I'm fully committed to this no matter how it pans out. So please take these changes with a grain of salt. Also I realize I have been absent for some time, but life, work, and college seem to be an excuse man writers use, no matter how true it is. I will do my best to retain a somewhat active presence here but cannot guarantee that will be truthful. Please forgive any future lapses as I am more then likely just busy with work and school.
Also, on a lighter note I want to thank those of you who have stuck around and supported me these past few years, especially so for some of you who I think you know who you are. Every review, fav, and follow have spurred me on in my efforts to write, a suitable kick in the pants to keep me going. And I promise I am not done yet, I will finish a story! By god I will!
Other then that, thanks once more and please enjoy!
Drake
First Contact
Prologue: Contact
Two possibilities exist:
Either we are alone in the universe... or we are not.
Both are equally terrifying.
-Arthur C. Clarke
One of the greatest philosophical wars waged in the entirety of humanity's sordid history is on the potential existence of sentient extraterrestrial life. That question has remained unanswered for as long as they have walked the Earth. And once they at last were able to reach out to the stars, they soon learned that space was a very vast and very lonely place.
So they did as they always had done when finding a whole new place to explore. They expanded, thrived, and then tore it apart with warfare before they had even stretched their infantile grasp past the solar system of their origin. The United Nations Space Command was quickly formed to bring about order to a once more war ravaged humanity, the military arm of Earth's Unified Governments. Derived from a coalition of all her member countries, they were ordained with keeping the peace.
And for a time it worked.
The war eventually ended and humanity again turned its focus to the universe at large, bringing about a revitalized wave of colonization. There was peace and there was prosperity. Medical and astronautical technology advanced to the point where all but the most obstinate of diseases had been vanquished and even the common man could afford the price of traveling the stars.
But inevitably their avarice would bring about a new era of conflict.
The outer colonies were an untapped treasure-trove of raw natural resources, resources the inner colonies desperately needed to fuel their intergalactic industrialized economics. Unrest quickly rose as the outer colonies were denied what should have been their rightly allotted political power. And with the widening gap of wealth between the two rapidly diverging territories, war once more unfurled its blood smeared banners, sounding the horn of succession.
The UNSC now found itself fighting its first interstellar conflict, with the very people they had been tasked with protecting. And as the situation increasingly deteriorated with thousands upon thousands losing their lives in the wholly avoidable clash, the questions humanity had ever sought to answer were shelved and promptly forgotten, seemingly never to be answered or again see the light of day.
Time passed... and the UEG was able to once more seize control of its wayward colonies through a grueling campaign, cleansing the taint of rebellion street-by-street, planet-by-planet, till the insurrection had been reduced to little more than small, likeminded factions scattered across a hundred worlds, their tactics adapting to combat a superior foe, now resorting to terrorism and fear mongering.
But they were largely ignored by the majority of the UEG who shifted their collective focus to more outward pursuits. Even with the eight-hundred colonies they presided over, the United Earth Governments wanted more, deciding to readopt their past ideals of expansion and exploration.
Seeing an opportunity to find more of the alien ruins unearthed in a clandestine black site on Reach, the UNSC agreed to create a joint task force with their progenitors in the goal of exploring the uncharted sectors of the galaxy.
And so a small fleet of military and exploratory vessels gathered over Earth, selecting the best and the brightest humanity had to offer to set out on this historic expedition to journey farther than any human had ever gone before. Only a few knew of the duel purposes of this intergalactic excursion. As far as most were concerned, the military was there to offer protection to the scientists and the select assembly of colonists who had volunteered to be a part of the voyage.
Once amassed and loaded with supplies, the newly commissioned 1st Joint Expeditionary Fleet launched, with great fanfare and ceremony, the inspiring symbol of a new brighter era in humanity's future.
A year into the expedition, and humankind would at last have the answers to the questions they had all but forgotten.
UNSC Midsummer's Solace, inner edge of the Perseus Arm
October 20th, 2524
13 months, post-exodus.
9 months into uncharted space.
Four pairs of hostile eyes stared each other down across the circular table's expanse, each set belonging to a man dressed in ebony, clean pressed military fatigues. Cards lay scattered about the tabletop in small, disorganized piles arranged haphazardly before each individual, yet only two of the four had a heap of rectangular plastic wafers to accompany their cards.
The air was stale and lifeless, a deafening, uneasy silence looming over the deserted barracks.
One of the men, a pale skinned, blindingly red haired fellow, chanced a glance at the cards clutched tightly in his hands. Grinning, he transferred his intent gaze to the man just opposite of his seat, a dead serious glint to his eyes.
The other soldier, a burly blonde with tanned skin and wary blue eyes, silently waited for him to speak.
"Do you have any... sixes?" He demanded with a correspondingly grave tone.
For a brief moment, the silence was broken by a stifled fit of laughter from the other two tablemates.
In response, the blonde haired man leaned forwards with an agonizing slowness, his expression utterly blank as he responded in kind.
"Go. Fuck. Yourself."
The red haired man glared at the blonde, lips twitching ever so slightly. Facing the wholly unbreakable wall of severity emanating from his companion across the table, he could not keep a straight face any longer.
His façade shattered and the young man let out a contrite chuckle, dismissively tossing his cards across the tabletop with a defeated grumble. "You know what, fuck you Liam. Take your damned credits you stone faced bastard!"
Smirking in triumph, the blonde soldier dropped his cards and reached across the table, raking the other man's currency over to his side. And in doing so increased the mass of his growing horde. Shaking his head in mock sympathy, the grinning man released a low bout of laughter.
The other blonde of the table spoke. "I told you Tim. It was foolish to challenge The Master of Go Fuck Yourself."
"And now we lost our week's pay because of you, you shitehead!" The last, scrawny member of the table growled, slapping an angry palm on the table with a bony thwack.
Tim raised his hands defensively. "Hey, come on guys! It's not my damned fault this asshole has no sense of humor." He gestured rudely towards Liam, whose smug grin had yet to pass. "And you're one to talk, Martin, you were the first to fold." The young red head's accusing gaze landed on the Irishman who only shrugged innocently in reply. "Besides, this was a shitty game anyways. Most normal people play poker you know."
The blonde who lost, scoffed. "Bah, poker, that game's overrated."
"Really, Cullen? And this one is any better?" He demanded, receiving no response from the one under his ire.
"It is if you win." Liam cut in with a self-satisfied smirk, sweeping the mass of credits off the table and into his cupped hands, quickly stuffing them into a pants pocket and out of sight.
At that the fiery redhead rounded on the sandy blonde victor. "Yeah? It seems like you are as much a master at this dumb game as the guys told me. What the hell is with you man? You didn't budge once. Where's your damn sense of humor?"
Tim still remembered how this farce of a card game started. For the past month, they had peen pestering him to join the little game nights they hosted afterhours at the end of their duty roster. And at first he had been admittedly interested. Usually gambling was frowned upon on most military vessels, the Midsummer's Solace being no exception. Yet it seemed Liam, Martin, and Cullen had found a work around with this bizarre take on Go Fish. It also seemed as if all this had been just a way to swindle him out of his credits.
But he couldn't see why. They were nearly a year's journey by slipspace from the nearest UNSC outpost, even further from a place where they could actually spend their hard earned money. This far into the voyage, and the fleet's network of underground merchants had all but run out of supplies worth purchasing, even the colonists aboard their ships had little to offer, and those that did still have things worth the effort held them at exorbitant prices.
Seriously, three-hundred credits for a single pack of cigarettes was ludicrous!
Remembering this, Tim focused his re-inflamed glare at the smug blonde across from him. He should have known better than to try and gamble against Liam. The soldier had a notorious fleet-wide reputation for robbing men and women blind. The game had appeared harmless at first but in the minutes that followed after it started he realized it was anything but. That man was a blank faced bastard to be sure when it came to cards.
In response to his previous inquiry, Liam offered only an infuriatingly sly grin as he kicked his chair out and stood up, a noticeable jingle to his BDU's pockets. "It has been a pleasure as always gentlemen. Now if you would excuse me, I have some credits to stash."
The three soldier's watched their fellow leave, a muttered comment under Tim's breath voicing all of their opinions.
"Asshole..."
A gentle thrum filled the cabin as lights flickered dimly into existence, filling the cramped quarters with a low, dull glow and revealing the decidedly overcrowded space. A small retractable steel desk stood clamped tightly to the ground, a crowded mess of papers and reports arrayed across it, now illuminated under the recently ignited lamp. Two doors faced one another on opposite sides, one leading to a personal lavatory and the other to the crew deck just outside. To the far side, a minimalistic, compact bed was rooted firmly to the bulkhead and under its paper thin covers a man slept.
With this new wave of light came sound as a pleasantly female voice filled the air, stirring the cabin's slumbering occupant.
"Calendar Date, October 21st, 2524, 3:45 AM shipboard time. The weather outside is currently a balmy -298.36 Celsius and the void is as silent as ever. Good morning, Admiral Matthias."
Awakened by the voice filtering through his quarter's speakers, the middle-aged fleet officer groggily shifted the covers from his body and swiveled to partially seated position on his bed. Rubbing a callused palm over his stubble, he gazed up into the empty air.
"Good morning to you to, Ash. Though, to be precise, I don't think waking up at four o'clock constitutes as morning."
"To be precise, Admiral, it is exactly 14 minutes and twenty-three point zero-five seconds from 4:00." The A.I quipped.
Having endured this type of back and forth for the last nine and a half months, Matthias no longer found its irrelevancy to be a source of amusement.
"Ash..." He grunted once in warning, drawing a curled up fist under his eyes still weighted by his interrupted slumber.
"Right, shutting up." The feminine A.I snapped quickly before going silent once more, much to the Admiral's relief.
Groaning in exhaustion, Matthias fully rose to his feet and lumbered to his lavatory, spending a curt ten minutes to quickly hash out a shower and a shave.
As he ran a razor across his cheek, he gazed into the mirror, a tired, worn down reflection staring him in the eyes, an image he imagined, that the rest of the fleet carried as well.
He still recalled the onset of their expedition, hard to believe that had been over a year ago, four months to leave sovereign UNSC space, and nine out drifting through the uncharted void. Not much had happened in that time, anything truly worth noting had transpired in the first segment spent traveling through controlled space. Just a handful of minor skirmishes with insurrectionist pirates, overall nothing to worry about with their heavy military presence.
Matthias had never figured that he would be placed in charge of a joint civilian and military expedition, still new to the high echelons of command, having spent only a few months to settle with his rank before HIGHCOM dumped this grave responsibility on him. He was unafraid to admit that it had taken him more than a quick minute to get a handle on his odd positon as acting military commander and quasi governor of their little colonist brigade.
But then he supposed they all knew what they had signed up for, a conceivably permeant posting, with the high likelihood of never coming back. There was no way to know what awaited them out here in the depthless expanse of unexplored space, what manner of dangers they might uncover.
Then of course there were the colonists to consider. He had been one of the many fleet personnel against bringing a baggage train of vulnerable assets on what was essentially a blind foray into the void. However their concerns had been waived aside. 'They can take care of themselves.' HIGHCOM had expressed to him. And it was true, each of the phoenix series colony vessel retrofits were well-equipped, with firepower equivalent to a picket of destroyers, bolstered by a sizeable marine garrison and mechanized divisions. Each ship had enough military assets to provide an effective defense, and offense if necessary. Even so Matthias still had his misgivings. There were just too many unknown variables when civilians were involved.
And they already had enough unknowns to contend with.
Still, they needed the hydroponics bays and industrial forges those ships carried if they were to remain self-sustaining for the duration of their expedition. That and those civilians were a potential recruitment pool to bolster the fleet's ranks if a situation so dire developed.
And so the colonists had become a vital, even integral part of their foreseeable operations. In the event they found a planet, or planets, suitable for colonization - one of the primary objectives set down by the UEG - they would be responsible for raising the first UNSC outpost. Communications with the rest of humanity would be few and far between, and such a stronghold would become paramount to their hopefully continued success.
But that was all wishful thinking in the end. Nine months of scouring the untapped portions of the galaxy had turned up nothing but inhospitable, barren worlds and colossal open expanses of nothingness, no signs of forerunner ruins, or any signs of life for that matter. At this point the scientists were growing restless, as was the rest of the fleet.
Tensions brewed between civilian and military personnel, so many clustered together for so long was bound to breed resentment. And Matthias only hoped they found something worthy of note before everything fell apart. It was an irony he could do without, being undone from within.
"Ouch..." He hissed, distracted hands having pulled the razor the wrong way to nick his chin. The Admiral watched as the newly formed crimson drop of blood rolled down his throat, quickly wiping it up with a wad of tissues he grabbed from the counter.
Matthias chuckled at an idle thought.
Hopefully that would be the extent of blood shed throughout this trip. Though, he had an uneasy premonition that it would not hold true.
Exiting the bathroom, now donned in a fresh uniform, Matthias moved towards his door and quickly stepped outside. Almost immediately he paused in surprise, finding someone waiting just outside his door.
"John? Up so early?" He greeted his XO in mild bemusement, the young man standing just to the side, datapad in one hand, cup of steaming coffee in the other.
John was a good kid, graduated from Reach's naval academy with full honors and one of his best choices so far. Matthias had only been able to handpick the men and women aboard his flagship. The rest had been volunteers for what was to most likely be a one way trip. That being said, he was pleasantly surprised with how many did. Then again, most were running from something or other, debts or their own troubled past. It took a certain type of individual to opt venturing out like this. Even with his duties Matthias had free time in spades, more than enough to take an occasional gander on who exactly he had under his command, convicted felons, debtors, the dishonorably discharged, not exactly the cream of the crop of humanity.
Even so, they all were here willingly, and that accounted for a great deal in his eyes. After all, it was indeed true.
They were all running from something.
"Thought you might need a little pick me up, to help you get moving, Sir." John offered the steaming mug with a youthful grin.
Matthias gratefully accepted the ceramic cup, taking a sip and smiling in appreciation as the bitter flavor and aromatic scent of his most favored of the coffee beans. "Colombian dark roast, I don't know how you keep finding this stuff. But as long as you keep bringing it, I won't ask questions."
"Of course, Sir. Ready to skim the morning's reports?" The young spectacled man held out the other object in his hand.
Nodding, Matthias appropriated the datapad and sipped from his energizing beverage as he scanned the newest updates from the rest of the fleet, scrolling through the digital documents with an indolent finger.
As suspected not much had changed. All ships were performing at optimal efficiency and otherwise from a few understandable scraps between irritable crewmembers, the status quo remained unaffected.
The only noticeably new development was their scheduled drop out of slipspace, set to commence in a few hours. Due to their exploratory nature, the fleet could not enter cryo for extended period of times, and the distance between jumps was short and frequent. They dropped out of slipspace every few days to scan their surroundings, an incredibly taxing and menial process that was sure to set even the most amiable of men on edge.
At the last arranged drop point, the prowler contingent attached to the fleet pinged something interesting on their long range sensors, a blip of mysterious energy with an unknown point of origin.
That might have been enough to peek his interest if not for the hundreds of false readings they had already investigated and debunked; radiation emissions from dying stars, particularly active asteroid fields, in the end, all wastes of time. He doubted this would be any different. Still, precautions had to be made, the fleet needed to be prepared.
It was nigh impossible to coordinate mid-slipspace jump, but that would be unnecessary seeing as the fleet was already positioned for deployment. Once they exited slipspace it would be fairly simple to investigate and discredit another anomaly.
Matthias yawned loudly, his jaw popping as it stretched. Honestly, he had expected more excitement from this expedition. A small childish part of him had been eager to explore, discover new worlds, the wonders of the galaxy, and maybe even find alien life. But it was becoming brutally apparent to him that no such life existed. Countless lightyears of dead space had nullified that childlike anticipation. It seemed humanity presided over a lifeless galaxy, whether that boded ill or well remained to be seen.
Shoving the datapad into the crook of his arm, Matthias headed set a slow pace for the bridge for what no doubt be another tedious and droll day.
Xavier could not help but feel disenfranchised. When he had signed up for the ultimate life changing journey he would ever take, months of tedium and banal conversation was not what he had expected. After all, Doctor Halsey herself had recommended him for this mission as their lead xenobiologist.
Now though, nearly a year into their journey with nothing to show for it, he was beginning to suspect that she merely wanted to rid herself of a glorified intern. Sadly, that was what his job had become onboard The Prometheus. He was a scientist with several PHD's in sciences most people could not even pronounce, and he was slotted as the ship's 'Technical Advisor' or in layman's terms, the IT guy. All his knowledge and expertise denoted him little more than a position as the guy who fixed the ship's computers, a task their A.I could easily preform offhandedly.
Even then he supposed he could not really complain, at least he had not been as unlucky as Phillis, the bioengineer had been reduced to monitoring the plants on they hydroponics deck. She was no doubt just as unhappy as he was, if not more so.
It was amusing that these colonists thought that just because the scientists had all these degrees, that they could take on these odd jobs. But what was perhaps most ironic, was that their assumption was not only true, but the extant to what they were able to accomplish, misconstrued technicians and gardeners.
With nothing to research, to study, no way to utilize their talents, this was what they were reduced to, trawling through code and digging through dirt, like some overpriced handymen. He was willing to admit that he might have romanticized their task, but he had hoped for more, a little excitement, a little mystery. Right now he would take anything that might shatter the monotony he trudged through, literally anything.
But it seemed as if the tedium would persists for the foreseeable future.
Grimly accepting what had become his lot in life, Xavier transferred his attention back to the faulty holo display on the ship's bridge.
Raising an idle hand to his face, Liam let loose with a might yawn, jaded eyes scanning the deserted corridor for any signs of "quote on quote", unscrupulous activity, the thought eliciting a droll roll of his sapphire irises. As if there would be anything of the like.
Activity of any kind aboard the Midsummer's Solace was reduced to little more than the banal chatter of naval ratings and the faint hum of the ship's fusion engines. The most exciting thing to happen since the commencement of their journey had been a very brief, unexciting scuffle between a few ensigns and marines.
And that had been six months ago.
Since then every day charted the same stifling routine, wake up, follow the strictly scheduled duty roster, eat, sleep, rinse and repeat.
At this point, Liam was aching for any kind of action, even breaking up another brawl would at least be something. Hell, he could even go for some shipboard espionage. Unfortunately, it seemed no insurrectionist spies had managed to slip on before they departed Earth's orbit. ONI had thoroughly screened every single person that signed up for this crazy ass mission.
The only reprieve that broke the boredom of routine came in the form of the three men he had attached himself to, Martin, Tim, and Cullen. With the occasional game and chat, the weariness became somewhat bearable. Liam had made it a point to avoid people after the siege of Sigmus II, but after the first few months he hesitantly caved in.
All in all, they weren't a bad lot, yet neither were they members of the Blood Dragons. The thought of his fellow ODSTs was enough to darken his mood, bringing an ugly scowl to his face that intimidated a passing ensign, the young women scurrying quickly out of sight.
After Sigmus, The Blood Dragons had been so heavily depleted that their entire regiment had been forcefully disbanded, scattering the few survivors across other ODST units throughout UNSC space.
Sighing once more, Liam readjusted the MA37 in his grip, resting the bullpup rifle against his breastplate, finger tapping impatiently on the trigger. He had not joined the navy out of some zealous patriotism. It was family tradition, dating from as far back as the Rainforest Wars. Every man in his family had served faithfully and with distinction. The Callahan name was well-known at the Corbula Military Academy on Circinus IV, quite an impressive feat for a family of rural farmers from Harvest.
A voice emanated from the corridor's speakers.
"All hands to duty stations. Ten minutes to real space."
Seemed as if the fleet was preparing for the weekly drop out of slipspace, Liam somewhat looked forwards to these instances, the few times that anything worth noting happened. Although on the last one, all they found were a few dead rocks floating in the void. Still, it was a nice to see something other then the absolute darkness of slipstream space.
Even though he set himself on the career path of a navy man, Liam despised traveling through galaxy. The only thing separating him from being boiled and simultaneously frozen to death as he asphyxiated on the lack of oxygen, was the meters of Titanium-A battleplate of the ship's hull. And with knowledge like that it was no wonder he hated it. That was why he had chosen to be a helljumper, to be shot like a bullet towards a planet's surface was the fastest way to get off the ship. He just wished he would get a chance to do just that.
It was a shame to put all of this military power to waste. A handful of corvettes, three destroyers, six frigates, four cruisers, a carrier and a supercarrier, it was enough might to subjugate an entire system. He still could not believe that HIGHCOM had been willing to part with such a number of ships, though from what he gathered so fat, these had been slated for decommission anyways. More than half the vessels of the fleet had to undergo extensive retrofitting mid-journey, whole sections of design had been years, even decades out of date.
If not for the foundries on the colony ships, he imagined many of the fleet ships would have fallen apart by now. Liam wished he could visit one of those vessels. He heard they had real food onboard, not the dehydrated nutrient rations the cooks of the Solace's wardroom tried to repeatedly convince him was authentic black angus.
At this point, it would be nice to interact with some civilians, though many a frustrated man had hoped to find some relief as well. Which was perhaps the reason military personnel were forbidden from making the journey over. They were here to ensure the safety of the colonists, not mingle with the women.
Another reminder from the speaker's informed him that they had five minutes left till they exited slipspace. And Liam could not help but feel underwhelmed by the announcement. It was just another marker in their static routine. Warp in, examine a chunk of space, and warp out, business as usual. It was nothing new and after the first few bouts of excitement, it had become just as mundane as the rest of the voyage.
Various idle thoughts running through his head, Liam weathered the last five minutes in silence, the corridor as empty as when he had initially took position outside the armory. That ensign had been the first person he had seen in the last four hours.
The lone soldier felt the deck shift subtly underneath him, a sign he had come to recognize as the Solace entering real space. Idly, he wondered what it was they might find this time. He had bet Cullen thirty credits it would be another lifeless asteroid field and he was looking forward to claiming another successful wager.
Liam didn't know what he was going to do with all his winnings, perhaps once they set up the colony - if they ever did - he might see if the colonists had anything worth hawking. He had heard down the grapevine that some of them had brought old movies, along with a bunch of other dated paraphernalia. Liam was eager to see if they had an old favorite of his, still remembering when he, along with his father and younger brother had watched the classic sci-fi flick, Enemy Mine.
He chose that moment to reminisce the good old days when he was suddenly thrown off his feet, his skull cracking painfully against the bulkhead behind him.
Dazed and confused, the soldier stumbled to his feet as the deck shuddered once more underneath him, far too violent to be the usual adjustment of thrusters. A pit formed in his stomach as he recognized what this signified, having felt it many times before, yet never having considered they would have need of it.
Evasive maneuvers.
True to call, the speaker thundered into being with none of the previous commonplace regularity.
"All hands to action stations, this is not a drill!" There was a trace of obvious panic in the operator's tone, the man nearly in hysterics, and that worried Liam greatly. In all the fleet actions he had participated in, never had a comms officer allowed terror to leak into his tone.
All at once, Liam was barraged by an endless series of his own panic inducing thoughts. They were in the middle of nowhere, literally lightyears away from the closest sign of life. So what in the nine hells had happened? Were they under attack, and if so, by whom?
He nearly collapsed again as the deck heaved violently with the faint groan of abused metal. With this third time, Liam decided to shove his questions away in favor of doing his job. If they were under attack , as hard as that might be to believe, he needed to get to the deck's emergency command station to receive orders and hopefully find out just what in the fuck was happening.
Grimly clutching his rifle, he set down the corridor at a heavy jog, one thing certain in his mind.
He wasn't bored anymore.
The bridge was a maelstrom of chaos, a chorus of panicked voices issuing from fearful throats as unformed bodies dashed back and forth in a disorganized jumble, trying to restore some sense of order. Hastily barked orders from comms officers filled the cluttered air as they tried desperately to organize the fleet.
Matthias watched all of this in his own wordless bafflement, eyes quickly turning to regard the holo pedestal beside his chair, gravity tugging on him as the engines of the colossal supercarrier heaved, trying to bring the enormous ship around.
"Ash what exactly am I seeing here?" He hoped that an A.I might be able to give him the answer he was urgently searching for. "Because I must be seeing things."
The holo projector on the pedestal flickered to life, a short digitized avatar depicting a blue woman swathed in ancient Greek clothing manifesting to his left. The surprisingly expressive visage of the holographicly rendered female mirrored his consternation.
"Admiral, what you, or rather we are seeing, is no fabrication. There are indeed eighty-six unregistered contacts several hundred thousand kilometers outside of maximum engagement range."
Matthias was hard-pressed to find a response for that.
"Make that eighty-five." The A.I interjected, a brief flash of light flickering outside the bridge's armaglass windows.
"Ash, get me a tactical overlay of the system ASAP." The Admiral ordered with far more placidity then he had expected of himself given the situation.
Almost as he spoke those words, the holotank at the center of the bridge burst into light, rendering an imprecise view on the absurdity occurring out in the void.
Hurriedly leaving his chair, Matthias approached the real-time display, disbelieving eyes trying to absorb what he was witnessing. Eighty-five... vessels, were marked as yellow blotches on the tactical chart. That was eighty-five unknowns.
And as he watched one of those blips suddenly fade out of existence, he realized something that only compounded his already mounting fears.
Not only had they stumbled upon what appeared to be an... alien race, the thought still hard for his mind to grasp, but they had found one at war, possibly with itself or... another, battling overhead some desert world. They could not be human, even from this range he was able to somewhat make out the hulls. Matthias knew every design of every ship currently produced by UNSC shipyards, and not one of these matched any known configuration.
As he studied the map in an attempt to place just exactly what he was to do, a jolt of shock suddenly bolted down his spine. A green dot met his vision, only a handbreadth away from the swarm of unknowns on the strategic overlay, nearly on top of the planet these apparent aliens fought over.
"Admiral, Lancer-1's slipspace drive dropped it out of position!" Ash informed him of something he was already blatantly aware of.
Matthias spat a bitter curse, damning the inaccuracy of their Shaw-Fujikawa drives. No matter the meticulous calculations undergone pre-jump, the precision of their translight engines was laughable. Ships could exit slipspace several hundred kilometers out of sync, as was the unfortunate case with Lancer-1. While the rest of the fleet was scattered in similar fashion, they were still approximately within range of each other.
But the corvette had been left stranded. He could see the little green dot as it frantically tried to approach the safety of the fleet, the captain no doubt burning out the engines. But they were just too far away.
"Multiple contacts are approaching Lancer-1 on an intercept course!"
Still in disarray, the fleet could do nothing but watch to see what would happen next. A small force of yellow dots closed in on Lancer-1... and the green blip symbolizing the corvette suddenly and violently winked out of existence.
"We've lost contact with Lancer-1." A sensors officer called out quietly, his low tone breaking the silence that had loomed over the bridge.
A pang of sadness welled in Matthias's heart, and the Admiral braced himself against the holotank, a heavy sigh expelling from his lungs. The situation was developing just as fast as it was deteriorating. He was not sure what happened, but the corvette had most likely been destroyed.
"Your orders... Admiral?"
Matthias looked up from the holographic display to his XO, the young man looking towards him for guidance, just like the rest of the crew, the rest of the fleet. And with that he solidified his resolve. He could not afford to dwell on what had occurred, there was simply no time for it. What they needed was to form a solid response and a fast one at that. A portion of the unknown contacts were reconfiguring to face his fleet.
He knew not what they stumbled upon, what manner of aliens they discovered. But he did know what they had become.
"Ash..." He spoke with a low tone of resignation as the swath of yellow blips on the map flashed red.
"Sound general quarters."