SSV Mogadishu
Sparta System
"Deceleration complete," the helmsman reported. The view through the primary observation port shifted from elongated, bright lines, into thousands of solitary points of light. Another successful jump.
She still felt new to this, despite being in command of the Mogadishu for the last six months. A transfer from the terrestrial "wet navy," she had command experience...just not the nonchalance attitude spacers had at being flung across the galaxy by what amounted to an alien super-cannon, which no one really knew the inner workings of.
All anyone knew was that they worked. In fact, the relays were universal in the ease of programming jumps to neighboring relays, regardless of computer types or programming languages. She'd never heard of an accident occurring during a relay transit...not that that eased her concerns at all.
"Very good," Captain Silvia Sharp replied, unclasping her arms from behind her back and allowing blood flow back into her tense fingers. Another few years of this and she might qualify for a position at Arcturus Station. It would be nice to be done with all this jump nonsense. The pay out here was better than any wet navy on the planet, and she'd heard that the mess hall on Arcturus had a great view of Themis. For some reason, the image of dining to the view of a gas giant resonated with her. "Let's get started."
The Mogadishu had been diverted from its assigned patrol route with orders to scout the Sparta System for anomalies. That wasn't particularly unusual, Batarians contested Alliance operations throughout this entire region. Though they couldn't match the Alliance in a toe-to-toe fight, they were skilled at subterfuge. Details that weren't necessary might not get sent in a long-range transmission like the one she'd received, for fear of interception, but it did leave people on edge...the ones that didn't involve themselves in the betting pool, anyway.
She'd overheard some of the marines while she was walking past their bunk room. Pirate bases, ancient ruins, and Batarian smuggling rings were the clear favorites, though one of them put a hundred credits on them looking for a gravitational collapse. She really hoped not.
"Working out the pins and needles?" a gruff voice asked from behind her. She couldn't help but frown as she turned to see 1st Lieutenant Carl Adela, who had quietly made his way to the bridge. Probably to antagonize her. He was sporting a half-grin that was severely at odds with the deep frown lines on his face. She reluctantly stopped rubbing life back into her fingers to spite him, and turned back to the observation port as he stepped beside her.
Now that she was listening for it, she could hear the soft thump of his armored boots against the deck. It was remarkable how quiet marines could be in their battle armor. She could count on her fingers the number of times she'd seen him in a regular duty uniform, and the same could be said for the marines under his command. It seemed terribly uncomfortable, but none of them complained and she couldn't bring herself to pull rank on the Lieutenant over her own perception of comfort. She tried to chalk it up to marines being a strange bunch.
"Did you need something, Lieutenant?" she asked as the silence dragged on. The grizzled marine shook his head and ran a gauntleted hand against his chin as he stared out at the approaching asteroid field, causing an uncomfortable scraping sound. Adela always had a five o'clock shadow, even though she knew he used a Cision Laser X for shaving. She hated to think what he'd look like using a traditional razor
"No, ma'am," he finally said, dropping his hand back to his side and looking at her with his penetrating grey eyes. "I just wanted to let you know my marines are equipped and ready if you need us."
She arched an eyebrow. She'd made no such request, though it wasn't against any rule for the Lieutenant to ready his men.
"Are you expecting something in particular?" She wouldn't be surprised to find out that he knew more about the operation than she did. Hell, he was older than her father and had been in the marines almost as long as she'd been alive. Lord only knows what kind of back-channel contacts you could establish in that time.
"Failure to stand ready could cost time and lives," Adela replied. Her cheeks flushed at the implication, which only served to irritate her further. She hated how obvious it was when she was flustered.
"Is there a problem with the way I'm running this ship?" she asked sharply. Apparently Aldrin Labs manufactured their armor to deflect more than just weapons fire, as Adela simply raised a bushy eyebrow at her.
"Ma'am, I'm simply being prepared."
She stood there, silently fuming and wishing she had the words that would strike that calm confidence from his face for once...that would slap some respect into him. The pettiness of that daydream disappeared just as quick as it showed up. "Dismissed," she said, the spark of rage reigniting in her chest as he turned away from her a split second before she spoke...dismissing himself.
"Captain," he said, not bothering to turn around as he left the bridge.
None of the crew around her said a word as she chewed the inside of her cheek. She wanted to wait, to find some way of making the idea of readying the ship, just in case, hers. It wasn't forthcoming and it was again...petty.
"Bring the ship to general quarters," she ordered, smoothing her eyebrows with a thumb.
Alliance Black Operations Vessel Shanxi
Sparta System
"The Systems Alliance Vessel Mogadishu has slowed and begun active sensor sweeps of the inner asteroid field, consistent with standard search patterns." The VI spoke with a simple, automated male voice.
"Damn," Strike Commander Gerard Fowler replied, pinching his lower lip as stared at the system display. It was a complication that they hadn't been expecting. "Where exactly is the MSV Dewar?"
"A precise coordinate system has not yet been established for this system, however," the VI began, and Commander Fowler winced. He really needed to work on his phrasing with this damned thing. "Location can be extrapolated using nearby objects. Based on the most recent available scanner data, the MSV Dewar is 143,632.4 kilometres from the asteroid X4b-11c. The distance from the nearest body on a vertical axis-"
"Forget I asked," Fowler grumbled, choosing to zoom the display closer to where the Dewar should be located.
"I cannot provide a precise location in a three dimensional environment without providing data from three axes, Commander. Along the vertical axis, the Dewar is-"
"Cancel my last request," Fowler snapped. He could see a red dot, the last ping location of the Dewar from before its systems were shut down. What he couldn't see was the location or direction of the Mogadishu.
"Very well, Commander," the VI said. Not for the first time, he wished the VI was capable of learning.
"Import the and show the location of the SSV Mogadishu in relation to the MSV Dewar," Fowler ordered.
"Processing,"
"Commander," Operative Rafael Suarez greeted, stepping through to what passed for a bridge on the Shanxi. It was really the cockpit, but all of the controls had been removed since the VI handled all flight and craft operation on the corvette. Instead, the cockpit had command displays and a comfortable chair that seemed like overkill when there wasn't a bridge crew to oversee. It didn't bother him much, though. He was a ground pounder and he didn't spend much time up here.
"Complete," the VI stated. A single blue dot showed up on the display. It was indeed near the inner asteroid belt and closer to the Dewar than he would have liked.
"Where is the Mogadishu scanning?" Fowler asked.
"The Mogadishu is currently scanning into the asteroid belt."
"Real helpful," Rafael muttered with the single huff of a laugh.
"For the love of... where in relation to the Dewar is the Mogadishu scanning? Are they scanning toward the Dewar, or away from it?"
"Based on its current path, the Mogadishu is scanning toward the Dewar."
"They should have used an AI for this," Rafael said, not for the first time since they'd been assigned the Shanxi. Not for the first time, Fowler agreed.
"As has been previously stated, Cerberus does not have a functional AI at this point, though development is in process.
"And I'm looking forward to being the one to purge you from this boat," Rafael said, patting the bulkhead beside him.
"Enough," Fowler said. "How much time do we have before the Mogadishu finds the Dewar?" Rafael raised his hands in mock surrender before backing off of the bridge and back toward the rest of the team.
"Based on its current path and rate of scanning, the Mogadishu is likely to detect the Dewar within the next four to six hours."
That was going to be a problem. They themselves were six hours from arrival at the Dewar and they now had conflicting orders. With the Shanxi on its shakedown run, they were the closest available Cerberus unit to the Dewar. An internal leak had been...plugged...and they'd been sent to get rid of the evidence before anyone arrived. Digging into the Dewar would reveal Cerberus secrets, and that wouldn't be good for anyone.
Under normal circumstances an Alliance scout vessel wouldn't be a problem. He'd transmit his secret squirrel codes and they'd back off, no problem. But, his standing orders also said that the Shanxi was a top level secret and that he was not to reveal its presence under any circumstances. A stealthed commando transport was much more useful if no one knew it existed.
"Thank god we laid out the network," Fowler muttered. The Shanxi was equipped with two racks of stealthed communication buoys. They were designed to appear like small asteroids if picked up on sensors, but contained systems for laser projection and receiving. They could lay out several and use direct laser communication from one buoy to the next until reaching one of the real buoys connected to the galactic network, allowing them to send and receive messages without broadcasting a signal which could be picked up by hostiles.
It had its downsides, not the least of which was that it was slow, but it was damned near undetectable, and you didn't want to get in a fight on a ship like the Shanxi.
"Advise Nepheron Command of our situation and that the SSV Mogadishu has acquired the Dewar before we could arrive, ask for direction." He was used to simply making command decisions without needing his hand held, but this was above his pay grade. Most likely, they'd abandon the retrieval and handle this slipup through other channels.
MSV Dewar
Sparta System
1st Lieutenant Carl Adela felt his magboots snap to the deck. Bright beams of light played over the bulkheads and door directly ahead of them, illuminating floating particulates. He turned to Service Chief Morrigan, planning to order his second-in-command to install the emergency rescue battery, but she was already prying the wall panel off. He had good people with him.
"This looks like a Taikoo-class freighter," Adela said instead, making use of the time while the chief finished up. "Once we've got the battery installed, I'll take First Team to the right, toward the bridge. Corporal Adams, you take Third Team straight through into the crew quarters and check there. Chief, you'll head to the reactor with Second. Keep in contact on the radios, clear?"
There was a brief chorus of affirmatives before the line was clear, bringing another half-smile to the Lieutenant. His people were well disciplined, none of that nervous chatter you get with rookies. He drilled his people hard and it showed.
A distant hum started and the door access panel lit up a faint green. They had power. The emergency battery would only power doors and the access panel for the recorder box. Everything else remained shut down, and even then the battery would only provide power for about an hour on a freighter this size. The Mogadishu carried four batteries, due to the likelihood that they would encounter distressed ships, but he hoped to be done with the preliminary investigation before they needed another.
If their scan of the recorder box looked good and Chief Morrigan reported that the reactor was in working condition, they could restart it and do a more thorough search later. If not...well, they could always frag the ship and be done with it.
"Clock's ticking, people," Adela said, further illuminating the doorway with a dim orange light as he triggered his omni-tool to scan the frame for traps. With nothing detected, he started cycling the airlock door, which always went slower than he liked. He shouldered his M7 Lancer and waited.
With the ship dead in space for an indeterminate amount of time, it was a safe bet that no one was alive. That didn't make it worth betting, though, not with lives on the line. Carelessness kills marines. It was always better to keep his people prepared, even if the ship was cold...very close to the temperature of background space, in fact.
If they'd been doing a more careless sweep of the Sparta System, they likely would have missed it. Captain Sharp was being commendably thorough in following her order to scout the system. And in allowing him to bring his full complement of marines on board to investigate when they found the derelict ship.
He'd worked with new captains in the past. Everyone handled it differently. Some were so new to being in charge that they stuffed their authority down your throat every chance they got. Some couldn't make a decision if their life depended on it, which it frequently did.
Captain Sharp was getting more proficient as time went on, a good sign for her ability to command a vessel in space. There was a learning curve to it, steeper for those that hadn't been a spacer previously. He felt reasonably certain that she intended to say something about his subtle insubordination in the near future, too. Sooner than some he'd worked with.
In space, a vessel was very often on its own. This was doubly true for a scouting vessel like the Mogadishu. Being the captain of such a ship required much more than general competence. She needed to be able to sense problems forming and deal with them before they became a real issue. There was a strong chance she'd get there, sooner rather than later. Unless he was mistaken, by the time the Mogadishu returned to Arcturus from this deployment, she'd be comparable in skill to any other Alliance Captain out there. Not bad, for a first deployment.
Finally, the door slid open and for a moment the other end black vortex. As flashlights played into the hole, he could see the door opposite them, leading to the crew quarters. It was secured shut as well.
He stepped through and immediately to the right, his flashlight and targeting reticle sweeping the hallway for threats. It was empty, save the floating dust particulate that seems to materialize when a ship loses its mass effect field. No matter how well a ship was cleaned, there was dust somewhere.
"Clearing crew quarters," Corporal Adams crackled over the radio.
"Cargo bay back here," Morrigan said shortly after. "And a galley. The cargo is a maze of boxes, I'll need a hand clearing it."
To his right, Adela saw Private Hillman swiping her omni-tool over the door in front of them.
It slid open and his flashlight played over several desks and a large, mostly open room. Not quite the expected cargo hold. He went in first, straight ahead, while Trepp went to the left and Hillman to the right. The flashlights could reach to the other end of the hold. Adela could make out the flashes of desks, scanners, beakers, microscopes, and various other articles of scientific equipment as he looked for threats, finding none.
"Lieutenant, Adams here. I've got what looks to be the entire crew back here. They're huddled together in groups and covered in blankets...frozen solid, sir."
They lost power and froze. Hell of a way to go. "Understood, Corporal. If the crew bunk is clear, move back and assist Chief Morrigan."
"Understood."
"What've we got, Hillman?" Adela stepped beside the soldier, who was examining a datapad. Trepp had made his way to the other side of the makeshift research bay to hold security on the door leading to the bridge.
"It's dead," she said, waving her omni over it again with no effect. "But, look at this." She handed it to him and it was immediately familiar to him.
"Standard issue Alliance," Adela said, examining it closely. It even had marine branch markings on it. He let go of it, letting it hang in space, and cued up the all-comm channel so that Captain Sharp could hear him, along with the squad. "Something's off here. We've found a research lab along with Alliance issue datapads."
"That freighter is registered to a private outfit, CDR Holdings. They're not..." The captain let her voice trail off. Not the military, Adela finished in his head. Trailing off a sentence was a poor trait in general, but especially in a commanding officer.
"As I said, something's off. We'll keep you apprised, Captain." Adela signaled for Hillman to join Trepp and gave one last look at the floating datapad before following them.
At the door, they repeated the familiar routine. Hillman opened the door and they breached with Adela in the lead. This was the hall that would bring them to the cockpit of the freighter, along with private quarters, if they hadn't modified that as well.
"Lieutenant, it's Morrigan," the chief reported via radio. "The reactor is clear, but we won't be getting it running again. I found the engineers here, they're frozen solid. Looks like they were trying to restart the reactor. If they couldn't do it, jarheads sure as hell won't be able to."
"Understood," he replied. That moved up their time-table, then. If they couldn't get the ship operating under its own power, that meant batteries. Detailed investigation could wait for another time. They needed to get the recorder box and get it back to the Mogadishu...go from there.
"I don't like this," Adela admitted aloud, watching as Hillman and Trepp stood guard in the hallway, ready for anything to come out of those doors. "Morrigan, bring your team to the lab behind us, Adams, keep the corridor to the entry hatch secure. We're going to clear the officers quarters and get the box, then we all get out of here."
He gestured to the left with his M7, prompting Hillman and Trepp to move to either side of the doorway. Hillman swiped, and they moved in quick.
"Clear," Adela reported. The room was empty, save a somewhat lavish personal bunk. Probably for the captain of the ship. "Across the hall, let's go."
Again they stacked, again Hillman swiped her omni. This time they were greeted with a red pulse from the door holo. She tried again, and again was denied.
"What the hell? The ship should be entirely unlocked." Hillman frowned, letting her rifle dangle from a clip that she'd added to her armor specifically for tech problems that required two hands. She swiped through options and data streams with practiced ease while Adela and Trepp tightened grips on their own rifles.
"Lab on a cargo ship, crew is frozen, Alliance military hardware, and a door that doesn't respond to standard rescue overrides...I'm liking this less and less, sir," Trepp muttered.
"It's a good thing you're not paid to like it," Adela said, though he had to admit that his own unease was only growing.
"Looks like...almost...yeah, there it is," Hillman said, omni going dark as she picked up her rifle with practiced ease. The door flashed green and as it slid open a frozen figure gently drifted away, having apparently been pressed against the door. Hillman pushed past, clearing the rest of the small compartment while Trepp grabbed and steadied the frozen man.
"Someone really didn't like this guy," Trepp muttered. Adela made a mental note to talk to the marine about his idle comments.
"Why was he locked in here?" Adela asked, looking over at Hillman, who had already started scanning.
"No abnormal biological or chemical readings...no unexpected radiation…I'm not seeing anything, aside from someone really wanting this guy dead." She went to examine the body with Trepp, who was bringing it gently to the floor.
Across from the door, Adela saw a wall safe with the door askew. He crossed the room quickly, keeping their remaining battery time in the back of his mind, and pulled the safe door open. Inside he found a haphazard pile of secure credit chits the ident key to open them. Careless to leave both in the same place.
Adela pulled out the ident key and tried to open it with his omni, causing an automated rejection, followed by 'Property of Armistan Banes.'
He walked over and keyed the bodies' omni, swiping the ident key under it. It pulsed green. "Got a name. Armistan Banes." Adela left the key to drift, gesturing for his marines to exit and following closely behind them. "Let's get the recorder box and get out. We can do a more thorough investigation from there."