Adamus; 1, Part 1
The research facility drifted, unguided through the cold expanses of space. Pilotless, humanless, but by no means lifeless.
The sound of scaping echoed through flickering lights and the poorly lit corridor as a body was dragged into the shadows.
"Captain, we have a problem." The security officer looked up from her console, unsure is she had the captain's attention. She had been uneasy since she had be transferred from the academy two weeks ago. The previous security officer had died in a land drop to recover a fallen pilot who had downed in Zerg territory. She had graduated top of her class, but that did little to earn the respect of the Adamus and her veteran crew. "Capt-"
"What's the problem?" the captain asked, slowly, wearily. His head rested in his hand, trying to ease the ever present headache of being in charge of a Behmeoth class Battlecruiser.
The security officer hesitated a moment, as if taken back by the response. She quickly shook her head to regain focus. "It seems the airlock on deck two is acting up again. The outer hatch remains shut, but the inner seal opens spurraticly."
"Are we under attack?" he exhaled slowly.
"No, sir."
The captain nodded, eyes shut, head in hand.
The security officer stared, lost, at the captain's chair for a moment. Even from the back he was an imposing figure on the ship's bridge. His slow, measured breaths, his calm, purposeful stare, everything about him rang out authority, respect. It hung like static in the air, causing the hairs on her neck to stand on edge. She caught herself and returned hurridly to her tasks, monitoring the security opperations of the ship.
The other officers on deck seemed lifeless. The performed their duties with uttmost efficiency, undistracted, unhurried, flawless. She staightened her shoulders, raised her head, and did her best to mimic her robotic shipmates. Countless button pressing, check-listing, all routine in the ordinary day to day opperations; but then, someone not so ordinary happened.
"Captain," the comms man called.
He had the captain's attention immediatly. He raised his head and opened his eyes. The security officer winced inwardly at the inferriority he had for her.
"there appears to be a distress beacon."
"Loctation?" the captain demanded, gently.
"Point 371 by point 095. She's definatly one of ours."
The captain nodded. "Helms man, bring us about."
"Aye, sir."
The viewscreen pitched and yawed until the ship came into view. A research vessel. A relativily newer one at that. It spun, slowly, drunkenly, with no particular course in mind. The smooth, metal hull showed no sign of rupture; the scans no sign of electrical malfunction. It simply floated, distressed.
The comms man pressed the earplug into his ear, listening for an unseen speaker. It seems that the speaker was as mute as he was invisible. "No reply from the vessel, captain."
"Helm, bring us in close and prepare to launch righting cables. Comm, keep trying to establish communication. Security, put the ship at yellow alert and prepare a boarding party.
The dimly lit black room turned to dimly lit yellow as the officers carried out their tasks.
The three shuttles and four righting calbes launched simultaniously, though the cables with greater speed. Each one with calculated trjectory striking the science vessel at four separate locations. Each impact echoed ominously through the ship. Through the barely lit hallways, past the full food stores, around the abandoned lab equipment and into the minds of every zerg on the ship.
The science vessels groaned to a halt, and the shuttles landed in unattended bays. Twenty four shipmates stepped from the familiar dropships, and into the cold unwelcoming arms of a forsaken ship.
The research facility drifted, unguided through the cold expanses of space. Pilotless, humanless, but by no means lifeless.
The sound of scaping echoed through flickering lights and the poorly lit corridor as a body was dragged into the shadows.
"Captain, we have a problem." The security officer looked up from her console, unsure is she had the captain's attention. She had been uneasy since she had be transferred from the academy two weeks ago. The previous security officer had died in a land drop to recover a fallen pilot who had downed in Zerg territory. She had graduated top of her class, but that did little to earn the respect of the Adamus and her veteran crew. "Capt-"
"What's the problem?" the captain asked, slowly, wearily. His head rested in his hand, trying to ease the ever present headache of being in charge of a Behmeoth class Battlecruiser.
The security officer hesitated a moment, as if taken back by the response. She quickly shook her head to regain focus. "It seems the airlock on deck two is acting up again. The outer hatch remains shut, but the inner seal opens spurraticly."
"Are we under attack?" he exhaled slowly.
"No, sir."
The captain nodded, eyes shut, head in hand.
The security officer stared, lost, at the captain's chair for a moment. Even from the back he was an imposing figure on the ship's bridge. His slow, measured breaths, his calm, purposeful stare, everything about him rang out authority, respect. It hung like static in the air, causing the hairs on her neck to stand on edge. She caught herself and returned hurridly to her tasks, monitoring the security opperations of the ship.
The other officers on deck seemed lifeless. The performed their duties with uttmost efficiency, undistracted, unhurried, flawless. She staightened her shoulders, raised her head, and did her best to mimic her robotic shipmates. Countless button pressing, check-listing, all routine in the ordinary day to day opperations; but then, someone not so ordinary happened.
"Captain," the comms man called.
He had the captain's attention immediatly. He raised his head and opened his eyes. The security officer winced inwardly at the inferriority he had for her.
"there appears to be a distress beacon."
"Loctation?" the captain demanded, gently.
"Point 371 by point 095. She's definatly one of ours."
The captain nodded. "Helms man, bring us about."
"Aye, sir."
The viewscreen pitched and yawed until the ship came into view. A research vessel. A relativily newer one at that. It spun, slowly, drunkenly, with no particular course in mind. The smooth, metal hull showed no sign of rupture; the scans no sign of electrical malfunction. It simply floated, distressed.
The comms man pressed the earplug into his ear, listening for an unseen speaker. It seems that the speaker was as mute as he was invisible. "No reply from the vessel, captain."
"Helm, bring us in close and prepare to launch righting cables. Comm, keep trying to establish communication. Security, put the ship at yellow alert and prepare a boarding party.
The dimly lit black room turned to dimly lit yellow as the officers carried out their tasks.
The three shuttles and four righting calbes launched simultaniously, though the cables with greater speed. Each one with calculated trjectory striking the science vessel at four separate locations. Each impact echoed ominously through the ship. Through the barely lit hallways, past the full food stores, around the abandoned lab equipment and into the minds of every zerg on the ship.
The science vessels groaned to a halt, and the shuttles landed in unattended bays. Twenty four shipmates stepped from the familiar dropships, and into the cold unwelcoming arms of a forsaken ship.