Chapter 2: Disappearance of an Old Crate Full of Ingrates
"Brrrrrr– Boooooom!"
The Bartholomew's Hand, racked with explosions, as it's once smooth hull, began to transform into debris.
"What the hell is going on?"
Yelled a very startled commissar, just awakened from an evening nap.
But nothing answered him, there was nothing there anyway, besides his lone self's, echo. Hurriedly the commissar rushed to dress his half-awake self, brusquely pulling on his great fur coat.
"Erghh." He grunted, as he pulled on his puffy, tough linen pants.
After a few minutes of dressing, he quickly ran through the ship to the bridge, arriving in time to find 3 of the 5 consoles either sparking, or set a fire to, by massive amounts of damage. Surprised, and bewildered, he looked around, fearfully, half expecting the bridge roof to fall on him. Suddenly he felt a hand grab his leg, and jumped, with enormous fright. His gaze faltered to the floor, as if expecting an enormous claw, that only chaos power could create.
"Thew." He sighed relieved, a familiar face stared up at him, ensign Mik.
"BOOSH!" Another explosion rocked the ship.
The commissar struggled to hold on to something. At the same moment he shouted a question in the midst, of yet another explosion, on the south side of the valiant carrier.
"What's happened ensign? Do you know!" And yet again at that same time too, in his mind he hoped that the ensign was still alive, or at least, not unconscious.
"Urgh." Moaned the ensign's seemingly lifeless figure, that lay doubled-up on the floor.
"Uhh... I checked about 2 minutes ago, before you came in, before the last explosion, it seems that an imperial cruiser signature, popped up. It hit us so hard, it killed both ensign Matthews, and ensign Khir, immediately. While Colonel Hellingo is over there," he said pointing, "Wounded, probably from a head concussion, against one of the consoles."
"Oh." Commissar Brengar looked down, his face seemed showing an attitude close to downtrodden.
He quickly turned up again, just realizing something, in a renewed wonder.
"The signature, was an Imperial Cruiser? Are you kidding me?" Shouted the bewildered man.
"Sir, it was, I can guarantee it. If you look at the signature, it's clearly the right size, and is giving off the right amount of plasma, from it's boosters."
"Shit." Whispered the commissar, almost immediately signifying his stunned disbelief.
"I can't believe we've been attacked by our own, this is impossible." The ensign listened intently, to the commissar as he spoke his thoughts out loud, unknowingly.
"BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!" Another loud noise echoed in the control room, but this time it wasn't an explosion.
"What the hell is that?" shouted a surprised commissar.
Hurriedly the ensign scuttled to check the console nearest to him.
"Sir, another five las shots are headed toward us, in10 seconds!" Shouted ensign Mik in response.
"Send out a vox signal, for help!"
"But the ship will collapse under those shots anyway!"
"Just do it!" Yelled commissar Brengar at the top of his lungs, and the same time slamming his tired fist, into the console next to him.
"Countdown begun, 9..."
"8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1..."
"BLIMP! BLIMP! BLIMP! BEEEEEP! BIP! BIP! BIP!"
The vox communicator in front of Imperial Guardsman Rieger, blinked, repeatedly, waking him, up from an illustrious dream.
His captain, officer 1st class private Timothy, also just waking up, quickly tried to reprimand his subordinate, by quickly slapping his hand against the man's temple.
"Wake up, you snot-weaseled Burifaur." Shouted the man also just in case the slap did not work.
Half-asleep Private Rieger, looked boredly at the vox communicator, his eyes dazedly staring at the screen interface. His eye lids suddenly rose in astonishment, something was definitely wrong above the atmosphere, of Victor XXVII.
"Sir, we're receiving lascannon signatures continuously above. About 20 kilometers from the nearest mining station." Uttered the guardsman.
"Which mining station, private?" Questioned captain Timothy.
"It appears to be station 0045284, by database info."
"That's where the Bartholomew's Hand, is stationed, shit." murmured the captain, briskly to himself.
"Open up an interface channel on the vox with commander Birk, now."
"Yes sir"
"Shhhhhhh," hissed the screen interface, as private Reiger typed in the channel coordinates.
"Yes, sector 5 what is it?" Questioned a new voice.
"This is captain Timothy, we have news that there has been explosions in the same area as mining station 0045284." Responded the captain.
"What importance is this to me? An explosion near a mining station, any mining station, could easily be a transport, or freighter collision, like the one 2 months ago. After all they happen all the time, even in the territory of this planet."
"I assure you this is of the greatest priority. The plasma signatures on those explosions, were pinpointed at the same spot as Commissar Brengar's recon division."
"So. It could easily be that his gunners, are having some fun, shooting at the debris, or maybe a minor leak, happened on board one of the transports, causing insignificant explosions. Even minor ruptures maybe, nothing important of course."
"Sir," The captain spoke this word with the least respect, in an irritable manner, "Those plasma signatures, come from the shots of 200mm plasma cannons, and the explosions are large enough to of been, from a carrier's engine. You know commander, well you should know that no ship uses, 200mm's for target practice."
"I see then, if this matter is so urgent, then I will leave the matter in your hands, feel free to contact the Mechanicus Adeptus for extra ships, and the spaceport, for extra troops. Otherwise don't bother me again, for the time being." Spoke the commander hoarsely.
"Shhhhhhh... beep." The screen interface, turned a void-black, then turned off.