Alex made her way along the flight deck, her highly polished parade shoes clicking on the metal floor. The hustle and bustle of operational life on the SSV Moscow continuing around her. The hum of engines, the whirring of the air-filtration system, the daily banter of the crew, Alex lived and breathed it now, she loved every second of it.
It had been six months since the attack on the Citadel by the Geth. Alex had only found out the name of the invaders from a C-Sec officer whilst she was in the medical centre recovering from her injuries. It was about this time that she had discovered that her father had been killed in the attack. Dixon had come to tell her himself, they found him skewered on a 'dragons tooth', something the Geth use to turn humans into robotic husks. He was half human, half cybernetic monster by the time Dixon found him. She hated the Geth for what they had done to the people on the Citadel, slaughtering them like animals, showing no mercy. She had sworn to herself that day that she would kill every Geth that she came across. If, that is, she ever came across any.
She would soon have plenty of chances to face them she hoped, just 30 more operational hours, and she'd be marching on the parade ground on her passing out parade. The SSV Moscow was currently eating up more of those hours than she'd anticipated, however. With fifty per cent of the crew made up of raw recruits and trainees, Alex had already spent plenty of time aboard the ship, but even with her new love of the Alliance, being directed away from their frigate flotilla in the middle of a routine patrol in the Skyllian Verge to attend to a distress call wasn't something she was expecting.
Located on edges of Alliance and Batarian space, the Skyllian Verge was an area of huge unrest. Rife with pirates and mercenary gangs, raids on colonies were commonplace, and devestating. By the time the Alliance responded to any distress call, it was already likely to be far too late. Despite the tension, the small-scale skirmishes that take place regularly have never escalated into a full-scale war. Cries for help were common enough in the Verge, but not common enough to be entrusted to raw recruits, so why them?
The derelict freighter had finally appeared on LaDAR about an hour earlier, concealed in an asteroid belt. There were no signs of life on board, and the VI hadn't detected any kind of registration. What had happened to it, and how it had come to be here? Nobody had any idea. So here they were, finding out.
She stepped into the elevator and keyed for the Engineering level. As the doors began to slide closed, a male figure hopped in between them, and gave a sigh of relief as the doors slid by the ends of his feet with centimetres to spare. He straightened himself out, adjusting his black hair and tucking his blue working shirt into his trousers. Marine Sergeant Chris Evans was as striking to behold as he was great to talk to. His light-hearted nature and quick wit, along with his well muscled body and flirtatious nature made him popular with women, any women in fact.
He smirked, his melodic voice drifting across the inside of the elevator as it clattered its way through the bowels of the ship, "Ah, Cadet Chamberlain. Fancy running into you here."
Alex smiled warmly and blushed, "Sergeant Evans. It's a pleasure, as always." She said sarcastically, planting a kiss on his cheek.
The two of them had met soon after Alex's training had begun, and it wasn't long before glances were being exchanged. Even though Chris was a few years older than Alex, the pair had been casually seeing each other for a couple of months, both deciding to keep it that way for the time being.
"So, where you heading?" Chris leaned against the back of the elevator as it rumbled downwards.
"Engineering. The Captain wants a report on how the Trident services are going. You?"
"Suiting up for boarding, we're going to take one of the Kodiaks and investigate that freighter." He let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders, "Could be worse I suppose. At least we're going in on our terms... we think."
Boarding an unknown ship was dangerous at the best of times. Any number of things could go wrong, from sudden collisions with space debris, to crazed VI security systems trying to kill you. Boarding a ship in the Skyllian Verge and you add to the list; elaborate traps, concealed pirates, and deactivated Mechs.
Alex stroked the side of his face with one hand and gripped his hands with the other. "Don't panic Chris, I'm sure you'll be alright." She gave his hands a short squeeze as the elevator hissed to a halt. She planted a kiss on his cheek as they went their separate ways.
The steps down onto the Landing bay clicked as Alex hurried down them, pushing past several of the engineering crew scurrying towards the elevator. The bulkhead into the maintenance area groaned as it slid open, and clunked heavily again as it shut. She was greeted with the fizzing and whirring of power tools, and the overpowering aroma of engine oil. Several F-61 Trident fighters were lined along the left hand side of the workroom, the closest of which was dripping wet with soapy water, being polished by an engineer.
The cruiser's complement of fighter spacecraft was tiny, up to five fighters and interceptors could be stored in the crowded hangar bay at once. The fighters were rarely used in ship-to-ship combat during patrols in the Skyllian Verge, that's what the Frigates were for, but had an imperative role in large-scale battles where they could disable kinetic barrier generators to allow Alliance ships to destroy an enemy fleet with amazing precision and speed.
Alex called out to the closest engineer, "Where's Chief?"
The engineer turned around, and Alex recognised him as Serviceman Daniel Barnturp. He relaxed as soon as he saw her, "Oh hey Alex. He's gone off somewhere, probably grabbing fourty winks, but Stevens is working on the end Trident." He waved before turning back to his work.
Barnturp was one of the fully-qualified engineers that kept the ship running smoothly. He was officially Chief engineer Hawthorne's second in command, although he wasn't much of a leader. Stevens had unofficially taken the role, which Alex thought suited Banturp, Stevens, the ship, and just about everyone else better.
"Thanks Dan." She strolled over to the fighter at the back of the workshop, but couldn't see any figures around it. Her attention was almost immediately drawn downwards as a violent hissing emanated from the underside of the craft, accompanied by cries of, 'God damn it, you pile of junk'.
Alex smiled as she moved to the other side of the craft. She found a skinny pair of legs sticking out from underneath the engine, accompanied by an ominous white mist making its way towards the ceiling. After a few moments, and a few more curses, the mist dissipated and the crackling of welding started.
Alex cleared her throat several times. The legs made no effort to move. She raised her voice, "There's another lady out here feeling lonely without your attention you know!" she said playfully. The welding ceased almost immediately and the legs hauled themselves from under the craft.
Known as an introvert to most of the crew, but as an opinionated, straight-talking, quick witted, and charming workaholic to those who got to know him, his lanky frame was easily recognisable no matter how many layers of grease, muck, and god knows what else he was covered in. Officer Cadet Michael Stevens was one of the Moscow's apprentice Engineers. Only recently transferred aboard from a posting on Arcturus station, he and Alex had, quite unexpectedly, and to the horror of the ships senior officers, gelled almost immediately. Originally educated at the Alliance's famous Grissom academy, he'd fast become the best engineer on the ship, if not in the whole Alliance Navy. He'd been headhunted by several human, and alien, military equipment companies as a designer, but had turned down all of their offers, stating he'd consider their offers as soon as they 'stop kissing the asses of their shareholders and start producing decent, affordable equipment.'
A smile spread across the young engineer's pale face as he raised himself into a sitting position and wiped his hands on a rag, which he promptly tucked into the back of his trousers. He spoke quietly, the sarcastic tone in his voice evident, "Well, I'd be happy to give you as much attention as you want."
Alex smiled, "If you want to give me any more attention than you are now Stevens, I want dinner and a movie first."
They both laughed off the comment and Alex leaned on the fighter's engine "So, what can I do for you?" His voice had returned to its usual serious tone.
"Captain Hiller is looking for an update on the Trident service."
The cadet let out a sigh and shook his head, "This is a stupid time to do maintenance." He reached onto the top of the engine and grabbed a datapad, quickly typing in a few words and handing it over to Alex, "We've only got one of the Tridents ready for combat, the other is still waiting for its Heat-sinks and coolant fluid. We haven't even started on the interceptors yet."
"Bit slower than usual aren't you?" Alex asked.
"Yep." the engineer stated, bluntly, "But that's probably because we don't have any parts ro service them with. We've checked the stock against the shipping manifest, five times in fact, and half of the stock is missing."
Alex's brow contorted in confusion, "What do you mean missing?"
Stevens raised an eyebrow, "I mean they're not there. They're listed, they're signed for, but they're not in any of the cargo boxes. We've had to cannibalize one of the fighters to refit these two." He gestured to an empty fighter that was little more than a skeleton skulking in one corner of the workshop. Two huge wheeled containers were overflowing with bits of electronics and ceramic plates.
Alex breathed in through gritted teeth, "Hiller's not going to like this."
Michael snorted, "Yeah? Well it was that or I don't do the refit at all. This situation is so bad, I've had to fabricate some of the parts from scratch because we have exactly zero of them. I told the Captain there was something wrong with the stock before we broke off, why the hell did they decide we were the better ship for this job?"
Alex huffed and shook her head, "Captain of the Hiroshima volunteered us apparently, engine trouble or something like that."
Stevens' face scrunched up slightly before he shook his head and dismissed whatever thought he was having. Alex expected him to elaborate, but he didn't.
"Well, at least this job is keeping you occupied, the Captain's had me being joint errand girl and gopher for about four hours now. God, I wish something exciting would happen around here once in a while. What do you think?"
With that, all of the lights on the ship instantaneously clicked off, plunging the crew into darkness. After a few moments, the red emergency lighting activated, flooding the walls of the workroom with ghost-like silhouettes.
Michael turned his head towards Alex, his voice low, almost a whisper, "I think you should be more careful with your wishes Al."
{- -« »- -}
To say that Captian Hiller hated his job, was an immense understatement. To the Captain, being assigned to train raw recruits into something even vaguely resembling a coherent fighting unit, was all of his nightmares come to life. Not only did he have the already tremendous task of commanding one of the Alliance's warships, he had to command one of the Alliances warships that was controlled by spotty, snivelling, grovelling teenagers. Every day that the Captain woke up on the vessel, he hoped it was one horrible nightmare. Today, however, was in a league of its own.
Captain Hiller sat in his command chair under the red emergency lighting. It had been like this for ten minutes. Everything was offline, comms, weapons, barriers, even life support. They were sitting ducks like this, although they were unlikely to suffocate... a pirate ship would kill them all long before that happened.
"Report!" The Captains voice echoed around the bridge, the stress of the situation straining it. "For the love of god someone please report something."
All of a sudden, the lights on the bridge flickered to life, dousing its occupants with a bright white haze. Hiller's face turned to the console in front of him. One of the lights began to blink. He pressed the button and a face flashed onto a small panel in the right side of his vision.
The voice was clean cut and precise. He immediately recognised it as the Officer cadet assigned to engineering, "Captain Hiller. Officer cadet Stevens, Apprentice Engineer. I've managed to get the comms and other basic electronics back online. Lights, life support systems, etcetera. I'm still working on the rest. Sensors should be coming online now."
A second panel appeared above the first, "Sir, short-range sensors back online." The red-haired females voice sprung forth from the screen. The tone of relief was evident, despite the fact that she had tried desperately to hide it.
The engineer opened his mouth again to speak, but the Captain cut him off sharply, "Cadet, I don't care what order things are coming back online in, just tell me what happened."
Hiller sat back in his chair, waiting for the apology from the cadet. He had once ben glad to have an intelligent crewman on board, having someone trained at Grissom academy on board your ship was a rare honour, but this one was as too clever for his own good. He was constantly tinkering, constantly suggesting ways to improve the ship. After a week or so of non-stop technical garbage from the cadet, the Captain had just stopped taking notice. Eventually, the cadet got the message and had steered well clear of the Captain ever since. He knew it was wrong, but a small part of him was pleased that the cadet hated him.
Stevens shook his head, "It could be a number of things sir, I'd have to look at the black box to be sure."
It was all the Captain could do to stop himself trying to reach through the monitor and strangle him, "Well have a guess then, cadet!"
The cadet recoiled, clearly taken aback by the captains outburst, "Umm, well... If I had to pass judgement, sir, I would say that it was caused by a highly advanced Cyber-warfare suite systematically hacking through the defensive firewalls and shutting down all our systems. With the difficulty we've had getting them back online, I'd say it was a complex VI operating system, and it's run out of options."
The captain paused, glaring daggers into the young engineer. It was a ridiculous explanation, there were no ships in the area with technology that advanced. He was just trying to cover his own skin.
Hiller waved his hand indignantly, "Whatever Cadet, just get this ship back online."
The Engineer's back straightened, his pristine voice returning, "Aye Aye sir." Both connections went dead at the same time.
Captain Hiller turned to his XO, his perfect posture retained despite the situation. "What do you recommend Summers?"
The bald man sighed, thinking the question over in his head, "Well sir, I think the immediate course of action would be to wait until we can move the ship, and then head to the nearest Council docking station to have the ship debugged."
The Captian smiled and shook his head. He liked his XO. Summers was of an older generation than the cadets, no frills, and no extras, but he did like his regulations a little too much. "No Summers, that's not what we're going to do. We're going to continue our current objective and find out what this ship is before we decide on anything else." The Captain rose from his chair, and opened his mouth to announce his plans to the rest of the crew, when sirens began blaring around the bridge, red warning lights sweeping along the walls, casting deathly shadows on everyone's faces.
As he was about to ask what was happening, a huge shell pierced the side of the bridge, blasting a large hole in one wall of the ship. The last thing anyone in there felt, was the air being sucked out of their lungs.
{- -« »- -}
The sirens stopped, and the metallic voice of the VI came over the loudspeakers, "Armour compromised, bridge critically damaged."
"Jesus, he had his whole command crew up there," Alex said, "He woke them up whilst we investigated the freighter." A few more seconds of silence elapsed, "Wonder who's in charge now."
Finally, the VI spoke again, "Under combat regulation ANP 302.56.7, Officer Cadet Alex Chamberlain has been promoted to acting Captain."
All eyes in the room focussed on Alex. She felt her skin boil as more eyes fixed on her. She was sure that they were all judging her to have failed before she'd even began. She could feel all of the colour draining from her face, every scrap of confidence flooding from her body like a tidal wave. She was aware of faint voices thudding and droning in her head.
It was Michael's voice that brought her back to reality, its confidence pierced the cocoon of shock she was in, "Alex?" She looked directly at him, regaining her composure. His voice was soft and low, the shock had rattled him immensely, "Orders ma'am?"