43: High Voltage
The command centre of the Ancient warship was large, spacious and full of workstations. Some had been modified with Calsharan systems, whilst others still retained the sleek grey and blues and transparent displays so common to Ancient installations. Garsus, the scientist who was more concerned with his work researching and refurbishing this ship than any loyalty to the Union, was hunched over the central console a short distance from the seat on which, from what Toron assumed, was where the commander would place himself. The lights within the command centre, rows of subtle white fittings embedded in the ceiling and walls, offered a comfortable level of illumination and overall visibility.
A broad set of windows were arrayed along the front face of the command deck, something that a Calsharan ship designer would have considered a weak point. The command centre of most Calsharan vessels were deep within the ship, far away from the outer hull. The Ancients had done things differently, often emphasising aesthetics over function, yet advanced enough that both often fell hand-in-hand. Personally, Toron was not used to it. Standing up here with all those windows ahead of him only made him feel exposed.
At the moment, there was little to see beyond save for the massive hangar bulkhead that blocked the way out. It was, if he were to guess, about half a kilometre ahead of the nose of the ship. Along the walkways on either side, several Union soldiers had positioned themselves. A few had fired at the ship, but the plasma bolts had simply glanced off of the hull. Someone had given the order to cease fire, and so the soldiers had instead focussed their attentions on the handful of docking tubes connected to the ship on both sides. They were going to force their way inside.
Norvak loitered by one of the entrances into the command centre. He paced about with growing impatience, positively itching for a fight. Garsus was tapping away at a Calsharan computer, specifically one connected to the command terminal before him.
"You better not be messing us around," the Sergeant said, annoyance and distrust evident on his features. Garsus looked up at him and shook his head.
"This ship hasn't flown for a million years," the scientist snapped, unperturbed by Norvak's demeanour nor the weapon he carried. "This work is a great deal more complicated than it looks. We're not even operating with an onboard power source. As soon as I disconnect this ship from the station, there's no telling how much power we may have at our disposal."
"Which means?" Toron turned around, one brow ridge raised as he regarded the irritable scientist.
"Which means, Captain, that we could run out of power very quickly once we're free of this hangar." He paused briefly then, his expression adopting something more curious as if a new line of thought had occurred to him. "Now, Captain, on that note, I wish to make it official that I want asylum with the Alliance. Where this vessel goes, I go."
"Of course." Toron had neither the authority nor the inclination to grant the turncoat scientist any such thing. The decision would be left with his superiors. In the meantime, he would gladly tell Garsus whatever he wanted to hear.
"I will need funds to continue my work here…"
"That won't be a problem," Toron interrupted. Garsus gave him an annoyed look, not at all used to being cut off. When it came to money, Toron did not see much of it in Garsus' future. He figured that his superiors might want to make use of the scientist's knowledge and skills, but anything more than that would be pushing it.
"You don't sound convincing at all," Garsus stated.
"How about you just stop talking and get this ship flying?" Toron's own patience was thin enough as it was. Had he not been here, Norvak probably would have beaten the scientist into submission by now. The temptation was certainly there for Toron himself to do just that.
Garsus, dissuaded from pressing his request any further, went back to work. Toron turned to the holographic display that was being projected over the central window. Surveillance feeds from all over the ship were in rows across that display, focussing on the active locations. Specifically, this was those points on the outside where soldiers were trying to force their way into the docking tubes. They had been successful in breaking through the Calsharan-made airlocks and the adjoining corridors; it was when they came to the Ancient ship's hull that they were slowed down. All the while the clock ticked on, and Toron awaited that call from Varsla that would tell him that time had run out.
"Garsus," Toron said, and he turned to the scientist again. Garsus looked up, frowning slightly. "Have I told you that we have very little time left?"
"You mean, because of the soldiers trying to break in?"
"No, I mean the explosives that are scheduled to go off any minute now and send the facility's power core critical." Toron practically relished the way Garsus' eyes widened, the fear setting in plain as can be. "I suggest you move things along. For all our sakes."
Garsus returned to his work. The quiet hum of the ship's background systems suddenly adopted a slightly higher pitch. Garsus, his demeanour much more tense and his hands moving frantically over the controls before him, looked to Norvak.
"The engines are online," he said. "I will soon have the weapons systems also active. Someone will have to take the controls. I'll be too busy trying to keep power distribution running smoothly."
"What about the hangar doors?" Norvak asked. He directed his gaze towards the windows ahead and the massive grey doors beyond them. Toron had thought about this, and he had to assume Garsus had had something in mind when it came to getting this ship free.
"The doors, Sergeant, are not going to be a problem." Garsus almost smiled. "The weapons systems will see to that."
Norvak did not reply, he simply emitted an irritated huff. Toron returned his attention to the surveillance feeds on the main display. In one, the scanner offered a view of one of the docking tubes. There was an officer standing outside of it, motioning a couple of soldiers into it. Toron had to assume that this was the commander of the installation. His uniform certainly carried the rank insignia befitting such a role.
His communicator came to life then, and he heard Varsla's voice in his ear:
"Captain, can you hear me? It's Lieutenant Varsla."
"I hear you, Lieutenant. Go on."
"The team and I are gathered in the main hangar and are about to leave in a shuttle. What's your status, sir?" Toron could appreciate the concern apparent in the young Lieutenant's voice. He considered his answer for a moment, noticing on the scanner feeds that more Union soldiers were running out onto the flanking walkways around the stationary Ancient warship.
"As soon as you're clear, detonate the charges," he told Varsla. He looked to Garsus then, noticing that the scientist had perked up. His panicked expression made it clear that he had heard and understood what he had said.
"Sir? Are you sure?"
"Don't worry about us, Lieutenant. Get yourself and the others clear. The Sergeant and I are close to an alternate exfil."
There followed a pause. Toron could almost see Varsla standing there, frown on his face as he considered whether or not to do as he was told and leave his commanding officer and Sergeant behind. Lieutenant Varsla was mostly by-the-book, so he would make the right decision.
"Very well, sir." Varsla did not sound as if he agreed. That was fine, Toron did not need him to agree. He simply had to do as he was ordered, and right now that order was a clear call to save himself and the others who had survived the raid. If anything, the security personnel who might have gone after Varsla's part of the team had instead been recalled to the Ancient warship. Evidently, stopping the ship from being commandeered took precedence over the rogue Sky Riders loose in the main hangar.
"Weapons systems are online," Garsus announced. "Engine propulsion is active. We are moving, Captain." The scientist locked eyes with Toron, who in turn ended the call with Varsla. "You may want to take the tactical console, just to my left here."
He gestured to the terminal a short distance to his left. Toron hurried over, taking a seat in what was a Calsharan-made chair that had been installed in place of the Ancient one that had come with the vessel. As such, it accommodated his size comfortably. A small Calsharan portable computer was situated upon the terminal before him, offering a streamlined display in a language he understood. From this, he had access to the ship's various weapons systems, complete with the necessary computerised targeting. Right now, however, all he needed was to remove the obstacle directly in front of the ship.
With the engines now roaring to life, Toron could see on the scanner feeds the soldiers running for cover. They knew what was coming, and they had no intention of getting caught out in the open. Across those feeds, and even on his own display, certain indicators began to appear: the point-defence systems were coming to life automatically, and they were highlighting the groups of soldiers now hurrying along the surrounding walkways. Toron managed a small smile, once again finding the notion of having the power of life and death over others so very thrilling. Of course, he knew when to control himself. The soldiers were of no threat, even if the temptation to see them all blasted at the push of a button was ever so present. Instead, he adjusted the controls such that the ship's forward facing beam weapons were active and locked in on the centre of the massive hangar bulkhead in front of it.
"I want full speed as soon as we're clear," he told Garsus. His fingers hovered over the 'fire' key. And then, with an almost casual flair, he hit the button and watched with a small smile as two powerful beams of light lanced forth from the nose of the ship and slammed into the centre of the massive hangar door. The metal underneath began to warp, turning the familiar orange hue as it reached its melting point. Still, this was not fast enough, not for the current circumstances. And so, with another few key presses, he launched a pair of drones from the forward tubes on board the warship.
These darted forth, glowing a bright yellow and moving with an odd grace in the way they seemingly glided smoothly through the space between the ship and the hangar doors. They blasted straight on through the bulkhead, before turning around and tearing through it again. The beams stopped firing whilst the drones did their work, shearing away the seemingly impregnable reinforced alloys of the massive doors. The loss of atmosphere within the hangar was over within seconds, and at least a handful of soldiers still on the walkways were sucked out into the void, their lifeless bodies tossed into the asteroid field beyond.
"I'm detecting multiple detonations within the facility's power distribution centre," Garsus announced, looking up from his terminal with some concern. "We've got mere moments before the core goes critical."
"Take us out," Toron barked. Most of the bulkhead was gone, leaving numerous small chunks of blackened metal floating about the hangar and the space beyond. The ship pitched forwards, moving steadily at first, the ageing engines seemingly working with all the efficiency one might expect from something straight off of the assembly line. If there was one thing the Ancients did truly well, it was building things to last.
Commander Valrosk had managed to breach one of the outer hull doors moments before the hangar bulkhead was hit. He and several of the soldiers who had responded to his call for reinforcements had made it through, entering the sleek corridors within the Ancient ship. One of those soldiers had been sensible enough to seal the airlock behind them. Unfortunately, about half a dozen others were not so lucky, and when the hangar had been breached they were pulled outside into the rather awful death that awaited those exposed to raw vacuum.
All Valrosk could think about was how he might explain his failure to the High Protector. He had not been about to stand by and watch the ship get away, and now that he was on board he had no real idea where he might go. Seldom had he been on this vessel, and he did not happen to be carrying a map.
The Sky Riders had no doubt sabotaged the entire installation; making off with the Ancient warship was, from what he could tell, an added bonus. His communicator filled with panicked calls from those elsewhere within the asteroid, yet so many of those calls ended abruptly as fire tore its way through the facility's heart. The entire rock was starting to shake, a deep rumble sounding from somewhere further above, one that only grew in volume with every passing second.
Valrosk had hoped for a comfortable assignment and the promotion that would come with successfully overseeing the High Protector's pet project. He could still save that pet project, salvage this disaster of an assignment and dispose of that traitorous scientist along with the Sky Rider thugs who had destroyed his facility. Within these corridors, some proper payback could be carried out. He motioned to the soldiers with him, half a dozen all up, and ordered them to follow.
Watching the destruction of the asteroid and the facility housed within through the Ancient ship's scanner gave it a certain detached quality. There was no sound, just the visuals of the sizeable space rock coming apart from within, being there one second and erupting into a blaze of white and orange light the next. The Ancient ship, christened the Visala by its Calsharan owners, tore through the asteroid field at full sub-light. It shields absorbed the inevitable collisions with the surrounding chunks of rock, batting aside most of the smaller ones with ease.
The explosion behind them brought forth a wave of white energy that cut through the surrounding asteroid field faster than Toron could even blink. Even the largest of the space rocks throughout were vaporised, reduced to little more than columns of dust. The Ancient warship, its shield receiving the brunt of the shockwave, shook and audibly groaned as it pressed on, darting for the edge of the field. It was not fast enough to avoid the blast, and something somewhere must have overloaded since multiple terminals within the command centre began to spark. The entire ship vibrated, and at some point the engines cut out and it was only their sheer momentum that kept them moving.
Jur's Anvil remained stalwart against the destruction. The purple-toned gas giant, vast and imposing, remained unaffected. Whilst the explosion was devastating to a large section of the asteroid field, it was little more than a remote speck against the sheer enormity of the gas giant. Within moments, the shockwave had dissipated and the blazing energies faded, leaving behind a tract of pulverised rock. Dust clouds swirled in vacuum where asteroids had once floated freely. And somewhere ahead of it all drifted the out of control Ancient warship, its engines inert.
Toron wondered if Varsla and the others had made it. He could only hope they had. As for his predicament, he was now stuck on board a ship that was adrift. Lights flickered about the command centre as he turned to find Garsus leaning over his terminal, working the controls frantically in an effort to get the engines going again. They needed hyperspace, preferably right now.
"What's the story, Garsus?" Toron asked him.
"The shockwave fried multiple circuits. I'm trying to reroute, but there's damage across the entire system."
"Have we got hyperspace?"
Garsus shot him an aggravated glance.
"No, we don't. If we had, I'd have already sent us on our way by now." Before Toron could reply, Garsus' attention went back to his terminal. "Hold on, Captain. Scanners are still functioning." His expression dropped, some mounting horror becoming apparent. "Multiple contacts, confirmed as Union ships. Coming right for us."
Toron looked to the main display ahead. Indeed, the scanner screen there showed five ships headed their way. The computers on board had identified them as Union vessels, specifically one cruiser, two frigates and two corvettes. No doubt these were this star system's designated defence force, and although they had been drawn away by the Alliance ships who had covered the approach of the Sky Riders, now the diversion had long since ended and the taskforce could properly set its attention on the one thing that had survived the facility's destruction. That is, the Ancient warship that went on drifting past the edges of the asteroid field. Eventually, without engine propulsion, the ship would be pulled into the orbit of Jur's Anvil. Gradually, and it could take some time, the ship would fall into the stormy purple clouds that covered the gas giant. Of course, the enemy ships dead ahead would take them out first. Chances are they would board the ship, and in its current state simply catching it in a tractor beam would be easy enough to do.
"Where are the hyperdrive systems?" Toron asked Garsus. The scientist, sensing the Captain's idea, reached under his terminal and retrieved a small personal computer. It was a simple grey metal device with a blue-toned screen upon it, a device of Ancient make that had been in plentiful supply on board the ship. He tossed it to Toron, who caught it easily in one hand.
"There's a map on that device," Garsus explained. "I'm relaying the necessary information from my terminal to it now. You'll want to find the main drive. Once you're there, I may be able to walk you through any necessary repairs."
Toron saw the display take on the form of a general layout of the corridors and adjoining rooms of the ship, broken up into several sections he could flick through by touching the screen. Each deck was mapped out for him, and the hyperdrive systems were at least three decks below, located towards the rear of the ship.
"I suspect some of our enemies made it on board," Garsus added. Toron frowned, surprised by this latest piece of information. The scientist gave a small shrug. "I'm sorting through the scanners now, but a lot of them were disrupted when we were caught in that shockwave. If I get a bead on them, I'll keep you apprised of their positions."
Toron, settled in his plan of action, rose from his seat. He pulled his plasma pistol from the holster at his waist, giving the weapon a quick check to ensure it was charged. As soon as he was satisfied, he made to move for the command centre's nearest exit. However, Norvak strode in front of him, his expression firm.
"Sir, I should be the one to go." The Sergeant presented himself then as one who would not take 'no' for an answer. However, Toron was also set in his intended course and so, for a moment there, the officer and his Sergeant glared at each other. A small game to see who would back down first, if anyone did.
"Sergeant, stay here and take the weapons controls. We'll need them." He glanced at Garsus. "Do we have any means of propulsion?"
"Secondary engines are working, but the best they'll get us is two-thirds full sub-light. Not enough to get away from a Union taskforce."
"And weapons?"
"Most are in order. Beam weapons primarily." Garsus, whose demeanour was becoming increasingly frantic, gave the impression of someone working as hard as they possibly could to avoid what appeared to be certain death. If the Union ships caught them, they would board this ship and overwhelm the three-man crew with ease. All of them would be eliminated, if not during the boarding action, then in the subsequent executions that would follow any torture and interrogation when in Union custody. Not at all how any one of them wanted to go.
"Start blasting the enemy ships as soon as they're in range." Toron motioned for the seat before the tactical systems panel. Norvak appeared annoyed, disappointed even. Nonetheless, he gave the Captain a small nod. He would do as he was told, if only because he respected Toron's abilities to command and to see them home. And Toron would get them home, even if it meant he had to die trying.
"You better not let that death wish of yours get the better of you, Captain." Norvak put out one hand in offering. Toron, surprised by the gesture, nonetheless took the Sergeant's hand firmly into his own. For the first time, Toron could truly consider the Sergeant a friend.
Toron left the Sergeant and the scientist to their assigned tasks. Plasma pistol in hand, he strode into the adjoining corridor. In his other hand, he held the Ancient data pad. Every second counted here, with enemy ships ahead and enemy troops on board. With the assistance of the map, he was able to work his way through the corridors on board without getting lost. Partway during his run through the halls, he heard Norvak's voice chime in through his communicator:
"Captain, just a heads up: we're within range of the enemy ships. This flight's about to get bumpy."
"Just do what you can to hold them off, Sergeant." Toron paused at an intersection in the corridor, looking both ways before checking the Ancient data pad and the map upon it. After a few seconds of thought, he headed right, putting him on course for the heart of the ship.
Sergeant Norvak was not at all fond of flying on ships, and he certainly did not much like ship-to-ship combat. To him, it felt so detached, the disconnect between his actions and what occurred as a consequence so much more pronounced than if he was on the ground, in the thick of it. That was what it meant to be a real soldier, to be right there on the firing line where any second could be your last. And to survive and to be victorious was to achieve glory, or so his father had drummed into him at a young age. His old man had been an officer in the Union ground forces and sending his eldest son off to military school at a young age had been meant to discipline the otherwise rowdy, disrespectful adolescent Norvak. He had always been somewhat bigger than his peers, imbued with a strength that had often put him on top of any childhood or adolescent brawl.
Despite his father's intentions, he had disapproved of his son's decision to sign up for the Sky Riders. That, in his father's view, was a suicide squad pure and simple. At the time, it had been a fairly new initiative concocted by a famously unconventional Tornyan General. He had wanted a small, precision strike force with the equipment necessary for fast, tactical insertions. A strike force that could be deployed in a space battle, in turn becoming lost in the confusion such a battle contained and using it to cover their approach to an enemy vessel. There, they would board and take control of the ship, whether that be to commandeer it or simply sabotage it varied depending on the circumstances. And Norvak had been one of the first Sky Riders, taking part in their first official operation against a Goa'uld mothership, a renegade who had been preying upon outlying systems within Calsharan-held territory. Human-populated worlds no less, under the dominion of the Calsharans, but it had been Calsharan space nonetheless. And that snakehead and its goons had found no quarter when faced with the rampaging Sky Riders within the very halls of that pyramid-ship.
Seated at the tactical console, faced with an array of buttons and scanner feeds, Norvak felt a little lost. Thankfully, all the crucial text was in Calsharan rather than Ancient, so he had no problems discerning what each button did. The system before him was already highlighting hostile targets, recommending firing solutions but otherwise leaving the ultimate decision to him. The Ancients, it seemed, had favoured automation more so than the Calsharans who had borrowed their technology. Their systems were certainly advanced, yet some of what Norvak saw before him seemed simple compared to what he had seen on actual Calsharan ships. Unlike Toron, Norvak was unaware of the truth that so much of Calsharan technology had instead been derived from a human vessel, albeit one that had been one-thousand years more advanced than anything they had had at the time. It was not necessarily Ancient technology they had built so many of their advancements upon, but that of Earth.
"They're in range, Sergeant." Garsus sounded impatient, his voice filled with disdain. "Could you please start shooting them?"
"You best keep your damn mouth shut," Norvak spat, shooting a mean glance at the scientist. He felt some small satisfaction at seeing the smarmy researcher slink back into his seat. Norvak returned his attention to the terminal before him, and upon tapping a few of the labelled keys he caused the Ancient warship to let fly with its potent forward-mounted beam weapons. The blue shafts of light cut against the black of space like brilliant, gleaming knives, striking the leading Union cruiser. It was a standard model cruiser at that, its hull toned a dull grey and its general shape that of a triangle, with two hangars at its underbelly and gun emplacements lining its flanks. The shields visibly flared up in response to the beams that struck, and for the several seconds that those energy beams blazed so did the shields under them. Most of that energy was dispelled across that force field, leaving the ship unscathed. In response, a cluster of blue energy beams lanced forth from the cruiser's nose and underbelly, hitting the Ancient warship head-on.
Garsus was flying them around the incoming formation of ships. Norvak worked the tactical console, ensuring that every gun emplacement that had a line on the cruiser fired automatically. Beams and fast-moving bolts of blue energy darted forth, all while the Ancient warship paced steadily around the flank of the cruiser. The two corvettes, smaller and sleeker craft with a general teardrop shape, turned to engage the Ancient ship as it closed in. Those corvettes had served as the frigate's escort, and now both broke formation to pursue the Ancient warship.
Norvak shifted the ship's targeting towards those corvettes. Both were pounding away with their front-mounted plasma cannons, the streaks of blue bolts falling short initially before they adjusted their aim and sent several of them slamming into the warship's shields. And then came the salvos of plasma torpedoes, appearing as lightning-fast orbs of blue light that left faint vapour trails in their wake. One of them struck the Ancient ship's rear-end, and the shields strained under the eruption of potent energy against them. The entire command centre shook around Norvak and Garsus.
"Get us into their formation," Norvak barked, shooting the scientist an aggravated look.
"We'll get shot to pieces…"
"Not if we're between their ships," Norvak countered. Garsus sounded like far too much of a whining coward for his liking. The scientist, however, relented and guided the warship in the direction of the cruiser and the two smaller frigates it had behind it. The corvettes gave chase, although they broke off as the cruiser and the frigates began shooting at the incoming warship. Presumably, the commander of that cruiser had worked out some idea as to what Norvak had in mind. If the warship, the Visala, could remain between the cruiser and the frigates, then they would be just as likely to shoot one another as they were the enemy vessel.
Another solid hit against the Ancient warship shook the whole thing suddenly, and the shields strained under the blow. In a way, this ship was an even match for that cruiser at the very least. The frigates were smaller, less armoured and with fewer armaments. And the corvettes even more so, but they made up for it with their overall mobility. Those two corvettes were swinging around the overall formation, yet steering clear of the field of fire the cruiser and the frigates were putting up between them.
Norvak had the cruiser targeted, and with the press of a button he had sent every weapon emplacement able to get a bead on that ship to fire. Several beams erupted from the ship's turrets, all hitting the cruiser at the same point. The shields on board that ship overloaded, but in response the cruiser hit the Ancient warship with everything at its disposal. With another violent lurch, the shields on board the Visala died suddenly. Some of the excess energy burned against the hull, and numerous red warning indicators appeared on multiple screens about the command centre.
"The hull has been damaged," Garsus declared, his tone steeped with worry. "It won't last long, not if they keep hitting us like that."
Norvak kept pouring the fire onto the cruiser now, hoping to neutralise it altogether. Beams scored its hull, burning through armour plating and depressurising entire decks. White and grey eruptions of smoke followed these hits, only to dissipate quickly in the vacuum of space. A sizeable trench had been burned through the cruiser's upper face, metal warped and hull plating blackened from the potent energy weapons. Several of its weapons emplacements had been destroyed, if the information scrolling across his console's display was anything to go by. With another volley of fire, he hit the ship's engines. Now the cruiser seemed to list where it was, engines dying before it began to drift out of formation.
As soon as it started to fall away from the battle, the corvettes swooped in. With frigates on one side and the corvettes chasing their rear, Norvak knew that their time was running out. If Toron was going to do anything, it needed to be now.
The engine systems control centre was a dedicated space towards the rear and bottom of the ship. The room itself was a large and mostly bare one at that, with an observation window that offered a view onto the engines themselves, accessible through a set of double doors at one corner. The engines were massive, taking up either side of the chamber through those doors, with metal gantries running between each. According to the Ancient data pad, Toron was where he needed to be. As soon as he arrived, he felt the ship vibrate around him. They were under attack, which meant that time had just about run out for him and Norvak.
"Garsus, I'm here." Speaking into his communicator, he gazed about the engine room and the numerous consoles and smooth, blue-toned metal columns that were packed full of cables and data crystals.
"Proceed into the centre of the engine maintenance area." Garsus' voice filled his ears then, sounding a little strained. He was no doubt trying to both fly the ship and keep tabs on Toron's whereabouts. "There will be a column there, right in between the engines."
Toron made his way for the double doors ahead. Waving his hand before the scanner to their left, they slid open, allowing access into the larger and more utilitarian space beyond. Either side of this large, multi-level room was taken up with what appeared to be one side of the engine housing itself. A dull rumbling could be heard in such close proximity to the ship's source of propulsion. There was an added heat here, as for all the shielding on the flanking engines, some of that energy still seeped on through.
A central column was where Garsus said it would be. It was a wide, dark metal thing dead centre of the engine maintenance area. Walkways lined the walls above, at multiple levels. In the middle of this mostly open space, Toron felt increasingly exposed.
The computer display on the squat column was blinking red. Warning messages had cropped up all across it, accompanied by a schematic of the ship's engine systems with a number of points indicated as being damaged or under some form of stress. The ship lurched again, more violently than the last. Toron had to steady himself against the nearby guardrail, the Ancient data pad falling from his grasp. It clattered onto the metal by his feet, but he made no attempt to pick it up. He no longer needed its help to find his way, rather now he had to rely on Garsus' knowledge of the warship's systems.
"I'm at the column." Toron saw a few obvious hatches built into the column. He had to assume this was some sort of central nexus for the engine's systems.
"The hyperdrive is located within that column. There should be panels you can open along its length." Garsus sounded increasingly strained. Toron could only guess as to how poorly the battle outside was going for them.
He pulled open the obvious panels, revealing bundles of transparent cables glowing with an imbued, blue-tinted energy. Another panel revealed rows of data crystals, before finally the larger of the panels opened to reveal a transparent heat shield and the hyperdrive core behind it. At a glance, the setup was simple: two sleek metal prongs, one at the top of the compartment and another opposite at the bottom, served to contain the exotic subspace-bending energies necessary to utilise hyperspace. In this case, it would have been a glowing blue orb, albeit the orb in question was nowhere to be found.
"I'm looking at the hyperdrive now," Toron said.
"Is it active?"
"Not at all."
"The power flow was likely disrupted when we were hit with the shockwave." Toron could almost imagine Garsus mulling it over, the wheels in his mind turning while at the same time his heart pounded in his chest. Every hit they took was a step closer to seeing this whole ship vaporised, or as was more likely, the engines disabled and the ship boarded.
"You'll need a direct hard-line from the engine power distributors. They're the nearest thing, and we can't do a hard reset in the middle of a fight. You'll be handling live power cables. Check one of the engines near you, there should be a hatch at the base. It'll probably be labelled in Ancient."
"Live power?" Toron frowned.
"It'll be dangerous and it'll probably burn out the hyperdrive, but it will give us what we need to jump out of here."
"How dangerous?"
"Well, if anything goes wrong, the sheer amount of power you'll be hit with will be enough to fry you to the bone." Garsus sounded almost amused as he said this. Toron sighed, resigned to whatever dangerous tasks he would have to do in order to see them out of here alive.
"A well-built young male such as yourself shouldn't have anything to worry about, in that regard." Garsus' idea of a little joke.
"It means more to fry," Toron remarked, but he otherwise headed along the gantry running off to his right. It stopped before the wall, which was taken up with the outer blast shield of one of the engines itself. The shielding was exceptionally strong, given the general lack of any protection beyond it. Through the exotic alloys and energy dampening fields imbued within, raw power burned within the engine pod now less than a foot away from him. What would happen, he supposed, if something breached it? There would not be much left of him, that was for sure.
The hatch was easy to find, being a few feet wide and labelled with Ancient lettering that was coloured stark white against the dark metal. Toron knelt down, finding the handle and pulling it open. More power-imbued cables were within, these ones thicker and noticeably hot to the touch. Opening that panel had been almost like sticking his head in an oven. Thankfully, the gauntlets on his hands kept him from getting burned. However, he now found himself faced with a dilemma: which cable was he supposed to be making use of here?
His knowledge of the intricacies of Calsharan ship systems was limited, although as an officer he had been trained with some basic technical information. The similarity between what one might find on a Calsharan vessel and what he saw before him was certainly unmistakable, yet enough was different for him to be at an utter loss. He was also not at all knowledgeable about the Ancient language, and that was all he could see printed on the panels inside the compartment. He had to assume they were warnings of some variety, or perhaps technical pointers as to how best to repair damaged systems.
"What cable?" He barked into his communicator. The ship rocked again, and then again; they were being battered by the enemy taskforce. The shields would not hold out for long, and certainly not with so many systems disrupted by the shockwave from the destroyed facility. Garsus' voice came through strained as before, with the scientist having to contend with guiding Toron whilst trying to fly the actual ship.
"There should be one thicker than the rest," Garsus replied. "It should also be brighter."
Toron sifted through the cables within the compartment, the heat that was seeping through his gauntleted hands enough to make him wince. After a moment, he was able to fish out the specified cable. It certainly appeared to be the thickest one, so he had to assume this was it.
"I've found it…"
"Rip it out at one end. Just don't touch the exposed core."
Simple enough instructions. Toron took the cable in both hands and pulled. It was fixed in tight, the outer tubing flexible and comprised of some exotic polymer that was no doubt sturdy enough to withstand the high temperatures and potential damage that might occur in a battle situation. As such, simply pulling it out of one end proved to be far more difficult than he had expected. Hands tight around it, Toron braced his feet hard against the floor and pulled, and pulled and pulled to the point that it felt as if his shoulders were about to pop out of their sockets. His gloves were starting to trail smoke, the scent of the burning material becoming thick before him. Any longer and that heat would start cooking the palms of his hands…
With a sudden heave, the cable pulled free. Toron fell backwards, one hand still clasped around the glowing tube. A good few feet of it followed from within the compartment, and blue sparks erupted from the broken end and from the socket in which he had yanked it free. He could almost feel the energy surging off of it, enough so that he held it out before him in an effort to keep that sparking, glowing end from touching him. Toron breathed a sigh of relief, his arms sore and his heart thumping in his chest. He stood upright, eyes flitting over to the central column in which the hyperdrive system was contained.
"Now what?" The ship lurched again. Red lights flashed about him. Something important had taken damage, he could surmise this much.
"Connect it to the hyperdrive core," Garsus replied. "There should be a socket near its base. It won't be a perfect fit, but all we need is a jolt."
"Put in the coordinates for Alliance space," Toron ordered. He did not trust the scientist one bit, and he fully expected them to jump into hostile territory. There was some small consolation in the fact that Norvak was on that bridge with him, and so any tricks from Garsus would be met with severe repercussions from the Sergeant. For now, Toron had to simply accept the risks involved with relying on a treacherous scientist to get them out of danger.
Suddenly, a plasma bolt struck the floor next to him. Toron threw himself to the side as a further stream of blue energy bolts cut through the air beside him. Sparks flew and the conduit, the end still puking sparks and smoke, fell from his grasp. He ducked behind a terminal, one hand pulling his pistol free from his waist holster. He caught a glimpse of the shooter, a Union soldier up on a walkway overlooking the engine room. There was another one with him, and both had him in their sights and caught in a mostly exposed position. The central column was about all that offered cover here. He needed to get that hyperdrive working, yet now the enemy had him outflanked.
Another soldier appeared behind him. Toron spun around and opened fire, several plasma bolts darting from the barrel of his pistol. The Union soldier collapsed on the central walkway, smoke wafting from the holes blasted through his armour.
The two on the walkway above opened fire, their shots slamming into the face of the terminal. Toron kept his head down, sparks showering over him. His eyes drifted to the cable nearby, lying a few feet from him and out in the open. All he needed was to snatch it and plunge it into the socket. It seemed like such a simple thing to do, so frustratingly close at hand and yet to expose himself now would only see him gunned down. And what good would that do the others if he failed to jumpstart that hyperdrive?
"Give it up." A voice sounded out, loud and clear from the other end of the engine room. Toron turned his head, sighting the officer leaning about the corner back down the central gantry. He had another soldier with him, and this one had placed Toron firmly in his sights. Toron had to assume that they had come down here to sabotage the ship, only to find him in the midst of some haphazard repairs.
"Or what?" Toron needed time. He eyed the cable, only a short distance away. All he had to do was snatch it up. A few long strides and the deed would be done.
"Don't be stupid. This ship's going back where you found it." The officer, Commander Valrosk, sounded confident. "And you, Toron Kavellan, are going to find yourself before a Union court on charges of treason."
"You know me?"
"I recognize you. Your image is well-known to everyone in the UPD. Not to mention, that little broadcast you made when this war started made you very famous, for all the wrong reasons." Valrosk glanced to the soldier standing by him. He motioned him forwards. The soldier started pacing towards Toron, his rifle raised. Toron had his pistol in his grasp, yet he made no move to aim it. Not when this soldier had him dead to rights.
"I'll return this ship and I'll bring you in, dead or alive. Either way, I'll be a hero." Valrosk smiled at him. "Now, give yourself up. It's the one chance I'm going to give you."
"That's very nice of you," Toron remarked. The soldier was several paces away. Toron turned the gun about in his hand, holding it loose with one finger in the trigger guard. "I'll surrender, just don't shoot me, all right?" He held up both hands, slowly rising to his feet as he did so. Valrosk stepped onto the gantry then, his smug smile readily apparent. The ship rocked again, although not hard enough to unbalance anyone.
"This is Commander Valrosk of the Union Political Directorate, commander of the Jur's Anvil special weapons research facility." The officer spoke clearly into his communicator then, presumably making a call to whoever was in charge of the Union ships assaulting this vessel. "Cease your fire. My men and I have secured the engine room. We will have the ship's systems disarmed in a moment."
Toron took a few steps to the side, hands still raised. The cable lay on the floor behind him, the odd spark erupting from its end. The two soldiers on the walkway had relaxed their aim, now that their compatriot was only a few paces from Toron. With their friend so close, they would not risk opening fire. This was his one and only chance. It was now or never, and he did not fancy being taken prisoner by the Union. A show trial and an execution awaited him down that road, and he had long ago told himself that if he was to die, he would do so fighting.
Toron spun the pistol about in his hand, clenching it upside-down but with his finger still through the trigger guard. He fired, the shot hitting the soldier in front of him square in the chest. As his opponent stumbled, he lunged forwards, grappling with the wounded soldier. Valrosk opened fire, but hit the soldier in the back instead, blasting him twice before Toron gave the wounded and dying Union soldier a solid shove. This sent him barrelling into Valrosk, and the pair went falling into a tangled heap on the metal walkway. As soon as they were down, Toron spun around, correcting his grip on the pistol and opening fire at the two soldiers on the walkway above. As he poured on the plasma fire, he darted forwards and picked up the cable. It was hot under his touch, coursing with power. And only a few steps ahead was the central control column and the hyperdrive. All he had to do was make the connection…
A searing pain erupted in his lower back. Toron stumbled, yelping as his balance faltered. One of the soldiers above had fallen, with the other having ducked behind the guardrail. It was Valrosk who had shot him in the back, still partway through shoving the dead soldier off of him. Toron turned around and blasted him, his first shot clipping Valrosk in the side. The next hit him in the chest, a flash of smoke and puff of flame erupting at the impact. Another bolt zipped out of Valrosk's plasma pistol, hitting Toron in the upper left arm. He gritted his teeth, his nostrils filled with the scent of his burning flight suit and of his own flesh rendered blistered and bloody by the searing heat of the blue bolts of energy.
Toron hit the central control column, before he plunged the cable into the hyperdrive compartment. He found the socket near the base of the inert hyperdrive core, and as soon as it connected he felt a surge of power that jarred his arms, burned his hands and sent him flying off of his feet. Brilliant white light filled the compartment as the hyperdrive core finally reactivated. Garsus, who had been waiting just for this moment, put the Ancient warship into hyperspace as soon as the readouts on his station up in the command centre flashed in the green.
There followed that lurching sensation as the entire ship was displaced, slipping from real space into hyperspace within a second. It was as if Toron had dropped his stomach on the floor, yet it was the least of his concerns when compared to the searing pain of not only being shot twice, but of being shocked with a few thousand volts of power, even if only for a split second. Pain lanced through his body as he landed on the floor, and through some small miracle his pistol was still clenched in his hand. Presumably, the muscle spasms that had briefly racked his limbs had kept him from dropping it.
There was still the soldier up on the walkway. Toron took aim, dimly aware that the soldier above had taken a shot at him. It struck the metal floor near his head, sending forth a flash of flame and a shower of sparks. Toron blasted him before he could shoot again, his burst of fire connecting with the soldier's upper chest. This was enough to send him crumpling into a heap behind the guardrail, smoke wafting out of the holes burned through his armour. Nearby, the central control column glowed with a new, white-hued energy. The cable that he had crammed into the hyperdrive was glowing almost white hot, and Toron had to assume that the haphazard jumpstart would not be doing this ship any favours in the long term.
Valrosk was upon him then, practically snarling with anger and pain. Toron raised his gun, but the officer swatted it away. Both of them, wounded and exhausted, grappled with one another on the floor. Valrosk struck Toron in the chest, and then the stomach, setting off further stabs of agony from the wounds he had taken. Toron pushed at Valrosk's face and hands, still half-dazed from his shock. Yet his attempts to defend himself were feeble, and Valrosk began to wail into him, one punch after another, battering Toron's already aching head and tenderising his jaw. One of Toron's hands found part of the cable and pulled, freeing it from the hyperdrive compartment. The end sparked and buzzed with energy. Now partly charged, the hyperdrive kept functioning without the cable present, yet this was likely to be short-lived.
Toron pulled the cable towards him, just as Valrosk hit him in the face again. The room began to wobble and spin about him. Toron, spitting blood, offered the Commander a smile before he grabbed the cable closer to its sparking end and plunged it against Valrosk's side.
There was a flash, followed by an agonized cry from the officer. Toron grunted, feeling something of the initial shock before Valrosk was sent flying off of him. The commander struck the central command console, smoke wafting off of his body. His clothes were scorched in places, his flesh noticeably burned. Toron felt a burning sensation across his hands and arms, yet his head was throbbing badly enough that the burns seemed inconsequential in comparison. A relative quiet suddenly fell across the engine room and Toron, all pain and exhaustion, simply remained where he lay. All he wanted right now was a good, long rest.
Valrosk's eyes were wide open, yet motionless. In fact, the Commander did not move at all. His head had lulled to one side and no signs of life made themselves known. Toron, dimly aware of the voices of both Garsus and Norvak sounding through his communicator, managed a small smile at no one in particular. He did not catch what the two were saying, just that both sounded a little worried.
"It's all right," he said, interrupting them both. "Everything is under control down here."