Chapter 1
Blood poured from the side door of the Cutlass. The water from the hose doing little to dull the deep crimson that stained the metal deck. Sure, he could let the bots clean his ship. He could simply walk away and ignore the iron stench that permeated the troop bay, but that didn't feel right.
It never felt right.
His friends' had sat in the chairs that traveled down the ship's center line. They'd laughed and joked on their way down, as they always had. He'd joked along with them over the Cutlass' internal comm channel. He remembered harping on the rookie, giving him shit and teasing him about his lack of experience.
The kid hadn't even made it out of his seat.
His crew offered to help. They always did, but he sent them off. This was his responsibility. He'd flown them down, he'd decided to land the ship with the door facing the bunker.
He's the reason they died.
He felt a hand grab his upper arm, but he didn't turn. Didn't react.
"It's not your fault." They were trying to comfort him. He appreciated it, he really did, but he knew they were lying. How could it not be his fault. He'd flown them down, he'd decided to land the ship with the door facing the bunker.
"There was no way you could've known they were waiting." More lies. He saw the bunker, watched it as they'd descended. He should've seen them, but he hadn't. Too caught up in joking around, too distracted by his friends.
His family.
And now they were dead. He'd flown them down, he'd decided to land the ship with the door facing the bunker.
The hand left his arm and he heard the footsteps as they walked down the ramp behind him. Fading away as he was left to clean up.
"How is he?" Her head turned toward the voice. A tall man with messy dirty blonde hair and a full beard of a slightly darker color. His blue eyes gazed at her with open concern as he pushed himself away from the wall he'd been leaning on. Next to him was a shorter man with lengthy black hair combed back and a black goatee. He stayed slightly back from the taller man, not wanting to crowd her, but his eyes shown with the same concern as the first man.
"It's not good." She replied, turning to look back over her shoulder at the Cutlass Steel resting on the landing deck. "We've never lost so many at once. And he's blaming himself for all of it."
"Fuck..." The blonde replied. "Nixie, you know I'm not good with this emotional stuff, but..."
He trailed off, looking around as if the words he wanted to say were painted somewhere in the hangar.
"We're here if either of you need us." The black haired man stated, getting a small nod in thanks from the blonde.
"Exactly. Y'all are family and you know we'll always be here for you, no matter what." He placed a comforting hand on the shorter woman's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, knowing that she would understand how serious he was.
"Thanks, Hat." Nixie's voice was barely a whisper as she stepped forward to pull her long time friend into a tight hug. "He's gonna need you two and everyone else to help him get past this."
Nixie released the hug and stepped back, giving a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes to the black haired man before leaving the two and exiting the hangar.
"Should we try and talk to him?" The shorter man asked after Nixie disappeared out the door.
"He won't listen. It's like talking to a wall when hes like this...I know you haven't been with us long." Hat started, turning away from the Cutlass to look at the shorter man. "But you're still family."
He sighed while running a hand through his hair and glancing over his shoulder toward the Cutlass. The red liquid still pouring from the side door. He could see him, carefully running the hose back and forth across the troop bay. Making sure he got every drop of blood.
"We're all any of us have and losing anyone definitely sucks, but Ginger, he takes it the hardest. He lets people in quickly and he's stubbornly loyal, to an almost suicidal degree." Hat chuckled mirthlessly. "He may tell you at some point, but that's his decision. Just know that Ginger's lost more people in his life than any person ever should and when he gets like this, the only thing you can do is wait for him to come to you."
"What about you? You seem to be handling this pretty well." The shorter man eyed Hat before looking back to the Cutlass.
"This group may be our family, but my family is much smaller." Hat turned toward the hangar's exit and started walking. "As long as my family's safe, I'll be alright. Now come on, everyone's probably waiting for us on the bridge."
"What about Ginger? Shouldn't someone stay here? Just in case?"
Hat paused for a moment, not looking back.
"Give him time, Reaper. He needs his space." Hat continued through the door, followed soon after by Reaper who spared one final glance at the lone figure spraying down the Cutlass.
It wasn't hard to see the terrible cost that their previous battle had taken. Consoles were sparking throughout the area and black scorch marks stained the walls. Even now, bodies were being placed into bags and carried out by the few remaining crew.
In the center of it all stood a tall man with jet black hair and a bushy beard of the same color. His heavy armor was dented and the paint scuffed. He'd been planetside with them during the assault and had been one of the key reasons the few survivors had made it back from that hell.
He spoke quietly with a nameless tech, but turned to face the two new arrivals.
"Hat, Reaper." He greeted them with a nod before waving off the tech and stepping toward them.
"What's the damage?" Reaper asked, stopping with Hat a few feet from the man.
"Fucked." He stated. "Crew took major casualties, chain of command is a mess. We were ambushed on both fronts. Nixie's in the med bay doing what she can, but..."
"We get it." Hat said when the man trailed off.
"Yeah. Far as I can tell, it's either me or Ginger in charge, but knowing him, I doubt he's in any condition to take command." He looked at Hat, receiving a nod to confirm his suspicions. "Well then, looks like I'm in charge for now until we can reorganize what's left of the crew and hire on more."
"What do you jeed us to do?" Reaper asked, looking around the bridge.
"Help out the engineers. We took a lot of damage and we'll be easy pickings if any pirates or scavengers pop up. Focus on getting the Quantum Drive back up. Sooner we get to a safe port the better."
"Got it. We'll let you know when we've got it running." Hat and Reaper departed the bridge, leaving the temporary commander to continue his task of getting their ship in order. They'd barely taken four steps when another tech called for his attention.
"Itchy Psycho, Sir?" Itchy sighed in frustration as he returned to the task at hand.
He zipped the bag closed, covering the burnt and deformed face of one of the bridge crew. Standing back up, he pulled out a data pad and scrolled through the list of names until he found the one he was looking for.
"Deceased." He whispered as he typed the word next to the name of the crewman. He stored the data pad and moved on to the next body bag. Unzipping it, he was greeted to the sight of a young woman. Dried blood coated the side of her face from a large wound above her eye.
He reached toward her neck and pulled on the chain holding her ID tag. After reading the name, he released the tag and zipped the bag closed before retrieving the data pad once more. He continued his task, taking count of the ones they'd lost today.
His count was interrupted when he heard footsteps approaching. Looking toward the sound he saw Nixie approaching. Her long brown hair was pulled into a messy bun and her green eyes, normally so full of emotion, were dull and almost lifeless. As their combat medic, she was responsible for treating any injuries the ground team sustained, but with the death of the ship's doctor, she was doing her best to fill in and it was clearly taking a toll on the small woman. Dark bags were visible under her eyes and her already pale complexion was almost ghostly.
"I've done everything I can. God willing, we won't lose anymore." She didn't meet his eyes, rather looking across the rows of body bags lining the floor. There were so many. More than half the crew now laid in this room.
"You look like shit." His reply caught her off guard. So much so that she couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her lips.
"I haven't had a chance to shower yet."
"You should think about finding some time. I can smell you from here." He waved his hand in front of his face, pretending to wave off a bad smell.
"Fuck you, Bacon." She swatted at him as her smile grew larger. Bacon stepped back, avoiding her attack while holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
"Easy now, no need to get violent." They shared a small laugh before silence once more took over.
"Thank you." Her smile had shrunk, but there was now a familiar spark in her eyes that let Bacon know she'd be alright.
"You're welcome, now seriously, go get cleaned up. You've earned a break."
Nixie didn't respond, simply giving him a slight nod before turning away and leaving the room. Bacon watched her go before returning to his task.
Author's note: short chapter, but it's more of an introduction to the main for the story. I know I've neglected my other stories, but hopefully that'll change.