The Bridge Between
Chapter 5: First Light
0927 hours, December 11th, 2186 CE
Deck 1, War Room, the SSV Orizaba
It was eerily silent.
Usually, that would be a relief. But not today. Not on the first dawn following the most devastating war humanity has ever known.
Admiral Steven Hackett sat in the softly illuminated war room aboard the SSV Orizaba, gazing through its window into the vast, dark expanse of space.
It had been quite the morning.
He had been roused by the anxious voice of the Orizaba's communications specialist roughly fifteen minutes prior. It took her a moment to convey her message clearly.
About thirteen hours had passed since the Crucible was activated and the evacuation order issued. Communications were down. The ship had no power. No injuries were reported.
Not ideal news, but it could be worse. His order was straightforward: ensure the ship's engineers knew he wanted power restored yesterday.
Reasonable enough.
He peered out the ship's window, trying to discern anything. Space seemed darker than he remembered, the sun offering little aid. Shadows lurked in the distance, their nature and allegiance uncertain.
He attempted to recall his last memory.
The Crucible had been activated, and he ordered the evacuation to the rally point near Terra Nova. But the energy wave outpaced most ships. He was confident some vessels made it to the relay, but the Orizaba wasn't one of them.
The Crucible's blast struck the ship, and that was where his memory ended.
No ships were visible in the distance, suggesting they too had lost power. Moreover, no Reapers were in sight. He wasn't sure if an AI ship could simply lose power, and he wasn't eager to find out while the Orizaba was vulnerable.
Despite the power outage, the ship seemed undamaged, which was a surprise. But he'd take whatever small victories he could.
0925 hours, December 11th, 2186 CE
Elevator shaft #3, the SSV Orizaba
"Come on…come on…" muttered LTJG Emily Cain, Communications Specialist.
She was thrilled that the elevators were still running, but as she waited, she realized that the stairs would've probably been the better choice. She had been on the Orizaba for nearly a year, but most of that was spent under the command of Captain Hannah Shepard—now Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard. She wasn't used to taking orders directly from Admiral Hackett, but she was sure he wasn't the type of man who liked to wait.
After what felt like an age, the elevator announced its arrival at deck '16' with a chime, and the doors glided open. She sprinted out and towards the engine control room. On vessels as vast as the Orizaba, there were emergency lights every fifty feet or so along the decks and corridors, powered by their own independent source. She had never been so thankful for something so ordinary as those lights. Though the vessel remained dark, sufficient light guided her path forward.
The Orizaba was a massive ship. The biggest among all of the Alliance's fleets. It had a whopping twenty decks and most of them were larger than standard decks from other large vessels. Deck sixteen was the main engineering deck. It housed the engine control room, the power distribution center, the engineering labs, the chief engineer's office, and the technical library.
As she made her way through the deck, she weaved in-between the bodies of multiple crewmen. The Orizaba was typically outfitted with thirteen hundred to fifteen hundred Alliance personnel. That would of course include both the Alliance Navy and Alliance Marines.
She spent her first week trying to get to know everyone that she possibly could. She spent the next few weeks trying to remember everyone that she met that first week. Her job as communications specialist kept her very busy. She was in charge of all communications within the Orizaba and between their ship and the rest of the fleet. She couldn't remember the last day she went without meeting at least fifteen new people, but she was more than up to the task.
Currently, however, there were an estimated twenty-two hundred people on the Orizaba. Once the Crucible had been finished, nearly all personnel were required to evacuate as they readied the Crucible for transport. Most went back to their assigned posts before they were pulled away to work on the project. For those who couldn't return for whatever reason, they were ordered to board the Orizaba until further notice. Most expected that they'd be dropped onto Earth or one of humanity's colonies to wait re-assignment after the war was over.
Well, if they won the war, that is.
As the doors of the engine control room opened, she gazed across the technological sprawl of the room. Her eyes landed on her friend, SCPO Sarah "Sparky" Robertson, Senior Engineer. A petite figure amidst the towering consoles and panels, Sparky's fiery-red curls seemed to mirror her relentless energy. Her slender frame, standing at a modest 5'5", buzzed with unyielding determination that defied her size. Dressed in her well-worn Alliance uniform, she radiated competence. A utility belt hung about her waist, loaded with tools specific to her role as an engineer.
The pair shared a friendship that dated back to their early days aboard the Orizaba. They had joined the crew within the same week and quickly become close. Sparky hailed from England on Earth, born into a family of engineers. Nearly every member of her family was either serving on an Alliance vessel or had done so in the past.
During her off hours, Emily frequently retreated to engineering to unwind. While Sparky's mechanical prowess amazed her, it was matched by her sharp sense of humor.
"Busy morning, Sparky?" Emily inquired; an eyebrow raised with gentle humor. "Admiral Hackett wants power back ASAP."
Sparky paused, rubbing her freckled forehead before shooting Emily a wry look. "And I was just about to take a lovely nap," she shot back with her typical deadpan delivery. "Though I guess keeping the Orizaba running might qualify as marginally more important."
With a theatrical exhale, she transitioned to a genuine response. "I've got my eye on the engine diagnostics. Over there, O'Connor's wrestling with our temperamental power grid. Nothing quite like losing electricity across the entire vessel to keep us on our toes, right?" Her resilient attitude radiated through, extracting a sliver of amusement from the turmoil.
"Any systems showing signs of damage?" Emily queried with concern.
Sparky gave a quick negative gesture. "No significant issues so far. Though we won't have the complete picture until everything's powered up again. You know the saying—all seems fine until a propulsion unit suddenly decides it needs a break."
Emily suppressed a chuckle and posed the question they were all wondering, "So, when can we expect power?"
Sparky gestured toward the corridor that led to the vessel's intricate power network and replied, "You'd better direct that inquiry to our electricity guru, O'Connor. He's somewhere in those shadows, likely having an intimate conversation with a blown circuit. He should provide you with a better estimate—or complete conjecture, as is his style."
Emily let out a short laugh as she bobbed her head in agreement. "I'll check with O'Connor, then."
Emily walked across the hall to the power distribution center and found ENS Ryan O'Connor, Lead Engineer hunched over a dimly lit console. O'Connor was a stocky man, standing at about 5'8", with a sturdy build that spoke to years of hands-on engineering work. His red hair was disheveled, a few strands plastered to his freckled forehead, and his blue eyes were framed by thick-rimmed glasses. A well-worn tool belt hung around his waist, loaded with even more gadgets and tools like Sparky.
Emily wasn't as familiar with O'Connor as she was with Sparky, since he'd arrived on board about three months after the they had. What she did know was his background as an Earthborn Irishman and his reputation for technical brilliance. While Sparky had a knack for solving problems, O'Connor seemed capable of conjuring solutions from thin air when things seemed hopeless. The two engineers maintained an amicable partnership, though that wasn't surprising given how much time they shared together.
Still focused on his work, O'Connor spoke with an exhausted yet perceptive voice, "I assume you've come about getting the power back online? Back of the line."
Before Emily could reply, he went on with understated wit, "Emergency power should be restored faster than a jackrabbit at full sprint. Keep everything crossed for luck, maybe send up a little petition to your deity of choice, and we'll let fate take its course. After that's handled, we can investigate what turned our precious Orizaba into something out of a medieval horror story." His lips curled into a smile as he added, "Though if nothing else, we'll get those coffee makers humming again—got to focus on what matters most, right?"
Emily surveyed the darkened chamber before turning to O'Connor. "I was just speaking with Sparky. Have you detected any issues with the power systems?"
O'Connor exhaled heavily, his freckled forehead creasing with concern. "Just a handful of displaced cables," he responded with a shake of his head. "But I'm troubled that the emergency power systems failed to activate properly. That's a clear indicator of something amiss. Might be a more sinister problem hiding beneath the surface, so we'd better stay ready."
O'Connor raised his index finger, his eyes glinting with mischief. "And for me final act," he proclaimed with the dramatic timing of a veteran showman, "Let's begin a little countdown, shall we? Three... Two... One..." With a theatrical gesture, he depressed a button on the control panel. Following a moment's suspense, the chamber's illumination sputtered to life, washing everything in the crimson glow characteristic of reserve power.
"And let there be light!" O'Connor announced with a playful smirk, looking back at Emily. "Or at the bare minimum, let there be some backup power, right?"
Emily rolled her eyes playfully, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Thanks, O'Connor. You always know how to put on a show."
With an exaggerated curtsy that would impress any theatre-goer, O'Connor spun back to face his terminal. As streams of information populated the display, he began to murmur thoughtfully to himself, almost like a bard pondering a new tale.
Emily, watching him pore over the incessant streams of information, finally asked, "Anything in there say what happened?"
O'Connor hesitated, adjusting his spectacles higher on his nose. "It'll take some time to dig through all this data," he answered, his eyes fixed on the monitor. "The strange thing is... the power systems didn't alert us at all before shutting down, which is... rather odd, to put it mildly." He shot Emily a concerned glance. "Something doesn't quite make sense here, and it's giving me suspicious vibes, if you follow what I'm saying."
She couldn't suppress her chuckle at his rhetorical question. "Why make things simple?" She smiled warmly at him before turning toward the door where she knew Admiral Hackett waited.
She exited the room, making her way back towards the elevators. As she walked, she passed by several members of the crew that she didn't personally know. Yet, their spirits seemed higher than they had been when she had first passed them. A symphony of various hums and beeps from multiple systems now filled the air, breathing life back into the ship.
Still, she couldn't help but notice that the familiar rhythmic hum of the ship's engines was conspicuously silent. There was a sense of expectation hanging in the semi-illuminated corridors as she treaded softly back towards the nerve center of the vessel. This crisis was far from over, but at least now the Orizaba no longer felt like a ship drifting listlessly in the gentle embrace of the void.
As Emily stepped into the elevator, she took a moment to consider her next move. Her hand, initially moving to press the button for Deck 1—home to the ship's Bridge & Command—paused mid-air. Her eyes then fell onto the button for Deck 2, Operations.
Deck 2 housed the strategic operations center, the communications array, the intelligence suite, and the officers' quarters. Though Emily's official post was on deck 1 in the communications hub, she knew there wouldn't be a hub to manage if the ship's communication arrays were still offline.
Admiral Hackett would undoubtedly be waiting for her report on the power situation, but it was also likely that his next order would be to establish contact with the Alliance or any nearby vessels. By stopping at the communication arrays now, she could preempt the inevitable task, potentially saving precious time later, and possibly even kickstart the communication systems while the engineering team worked on restoring the main power.
With a resolute nod, Emily pushed the button for Deck 2—Operations. The doors of the elevator closed, setting her on her path.
Emily walked swiftly towards the communication arrays. With the restoration of emergency power, the ship was suddenly a hive of activity, as the crew scrambled to return to their posts. The Orizaba was staffed with some of the finest and most experienced officers in the Alliance, yet even they were thrown into a frenzy by the predicament.
Despite the chaos, Emily knew the importance of having a functioning communication system on a spaceship—it was perhaps the most critical component. While it wasn't necessarily her responsibility to fix issues with the arrays, it was her job to always know their status.
At just 26, she was relatively young for an officer— apoint she was sometimes self-conscious about. She often wondered if others assumed she had only gotten her position due to her parentage. But she quickly pushed away these doubts, reminding herself that her skills and hard work were the reason she was where she was. She was always determined not to let anyone down—and that wasn't going to change today.
As Emily rounded a corner, heading for the control room housing the communication arrays, she barely avoided colliding with a figure coming the other way.
Backing up instantly, she fumbled out an apology. "I'm sorry! I didn't see you..." she said, her cheeks coloring slightly from the near mishap.
The woman Emily nearly collided with was none other than RADM Hannah Shepard. Her hair, an earthy brown dusted with the telltale signs of stress and age—slivers of silver and strands of white—was pulled back into a tight bun, practical and unobtrusive for someone in her line of duty. She was wearing the standard navy-blue Alliance uniform that most officers wore. It fit flatteringly and included the several pins that signified her long and decorated career.
In her veteran eyes, there was kindness and an undeniable aura of authority that conveyed much. She dismissed Emily's hurried apologies with a light shake of her head, her voice conveying comfort. "No harm done, Emily," she smiled warmly. "What's your hurry?"
Emily, still mortified, lifted her arm in a crisp salute while responding. "I was returning from engineering per Admiral Hackett's instructions. I was en route to inform that backup power has been restored and wanted to inspect the communications array to potentially deliver additional positive updates."
Hannah chuckled gently and dipped her head in acknowledgment. "At ease. Please. Any news from engineering about what happened?"
Emily self-consciously dropped her arm. "Nothing concrete at this point, I'm afraid. Ensign O'Connor and SCPO Robertson are currently analyzing the system records."
Hannah inclined her head again. "Understood. Proceed with your communications inspection. I'm on my way to meet with Hackett myself. I'll update him on the situation."
"Thank you, ma'am. I'll report in with Admiral Hackett as soon as possible." Emily said with a smile.
Emily proceeded to the control room, arriving a couple of minutes later as the doors slid open. The room was usually unmanned, filled with towering equipment and a few diagnostic terminals. Several engineers were inspecting the equipment, with one stationed at a terminal.
She approached the tall engineer at the terminal, PO3 Kevin Dawson, Junior Engineer. Dawson was young and robust, with a solid 6'2 frame and short brown hair. Emily knew he had initially served on the SSV Nairobi with the Third Fleet, his first posting. Originally from Terra Nova, he had been enlisted for about a year before being reassigned to work on the Crucible and subsequently boarded the Orizaba.
"Hey, Kev. What's the status?" Emily asked.
Dawson briefly met her gaze with his brown eyes before returning to the terminal. "Communications appear to be operational."
Emily almost jumped for joy. "Yes!"
"I said appear," Dawson clarified with a sigh.
Emily halted, her brow furrowing. "Appear?"
Dawson nodded. "Everything looks functional, but we're getting no response. We've been sending SOS signals every thirty seconds, but we're not even getting static back."
Emily paused, tapping her foot thoughtfully. "It's possible that we're just the first ship to restore power, right?"
"Technically, yes," Dawson conceded with a shrug.
Emily nodded. "Then let's keep transmitting the SOS signals. Someone will hopefully pick up on them soon."
"And if there's an issue with our equipment?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Then you find me and report it immediately."
"Yes, ma'am," Dawson acknowledged. "Where will you be?"
She sighed as she turned toward the control room exit. "I'll be at my post in the comm hub. Admiral Hackett wants updates ASAP, and I'd really like to deliver good news."
Glancing back at the junior engineer, she gave a confirming nod before exiting the control room.
1021 hours, December 11th, 2186 CE
Deck 1, War Room, the SSV Orizaba
Admiral Hackett gazed expectantly at the war terminal. What had once been cluttered with fellow Alliance vessels, allied Council ships, and even the enemy Reapers' ships was now empty, save for the Orizaba's throbbing blip.
He was grateful that emergency power had been restored, though he still awaited a report. One step at a time. Roughly an hour had elapsed since he'd awakened, and they remained in the dark about their situation. His instincts told him that calm wouldn't last, and he'd prefer to have the upper hand when things inevitably went sideways.
His focus was interrupted by the doors gliding open. He looked behind as Hannah Shepard entered, carrying two cups of coffee. She extended one to him, and he hesitated before accepting it with a nod.
Hackett shifted his attention to the war terminal again, carefully sampling the steaming drink—coffee's familiar flavor provided a much-needed comfort. After enduring an awkward quiet moment between them, he eventually broke the silence, "Hannah, has engineering sent any word yet?"
Hannah gave an affirmative nod, folding her arms across her chest as she settled against a nearby terminal. "I encountered Emily en route. They've restored the backup power, and the team is now examining the system logs."
Hackett released a short, tense breath. "I'm rather puzzled that Junior Lieutenant Cain didn't present the status report in person."
"I offered to deliver the report myself. She was heading toward the communication arrays to collect additional data," Hannah clarified, a smile crossing her face.
Hackett released another tense breath, hesitating momentarily. "What do you make of her?"
"Of Emily?"
Hackett nodded. "She's been under your wing for nearly a year now."
Hannah paused, looking down at her mug. After a moment, she met his gaze. "She's still finding her footing, but she's good at hiding it. She's smart, resourceful, and quick to learn."
She paused before continuing, "She has the right temperament for the job. I've never seen her struggle to get along with anyone. Truthfully, if I didn't know she was Robert's daughter, I'd think her name was just a coincidence."
Hackett sighed, taking another sip from his cup. "That's what worries me. The Crucible was mainly a human endeavor, but there were plenty of aliens involved, especially towards the end. Any problems there?"
Hannah shook her head immediately. "None. I've seen her interact with almost every species, Steven. She's nothing like her father."
Hackett gave a small nod. "I trust your judgment, Hannah."
Silence filled the room as they both drank from their mugs.
"Let's hope she finds something on the comms," Hannah sighed, walking over to the nearby window and gazing into the void of space. "We can't be the only ones who were left powerless near the relay."
Hackett winced at the remark and joined her.
"That's what's bothering me too," he said, setting his coffee cup down. He paced around the command center, continuing, "No signs of enemy or friendly activity. And the silence, it's unsettling."
She was quiet for a moment, taking another sip of coffee. "What's your instinct telling you?" Hannah asked, knowing Hackett had an uncanny ability to gauge situations.
"That we're not out of the woods yet," Hackett admitted, his voice steady but tinged with subtle apprehension. He looked at Hannah, intensity in his eyes. "We'd better be ready for what's coming next."
A few silent moments passed.
She lifted her fingers to her cheek. "We need to reach Earth, Steven. I need to know if..." Her voice faltered at the edge of breaking. "If..."
He closed his eyes briefly and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
She sniffled back tears and brushed her hand over her face. "Tell me that Jane didn't have to sacrifice herself to end this damn war." She turned to Hackett, tears welling up again. "Tell me that my little girl's alive."
Hackett turned to her, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open. He knew she needed comfort, but he had never lied to Hannah and couldn't start now.
He grimaced faintly. "Your daughter's one of the toughest soldiers I've ever met."
A couple of tears escaped and started trickling down her cheeks before she swiftly brushed them off.
She shook her head. "She'd been warning everyone for almost four years. Four years. And everyone was too damn stubborn to listen."
"And Shepard never gave up." He sighed. "Everyone in the galaxy owes their lives to her."
She scoffed bitterly. "Just what we need. More posthumous medals."
"All we can do now is make sure her sacrifices weren't in vain. The galaxy needs to stand together if we're going to bounce back from this."
"Who's even going to lead us? The Alliance Parliament was lost when Arcturus Station was destroyed. Udina's dead." She paused and sighed. "Jane was the one person who could unite all of humanity."
He nodded. "I know. But once the dust settles, new parliament members will be elected. Convincing the Council will be difficult after Udina almost got them all killed, but we'll manage."
Hannah fell quiet for a moment, her eyes fixed on the void of space, still dwelling on her daughter's fate.
"I can't accept that she's gone," she said, shaking her head. "I refuse to. Not until we find her."
He looked at her but said nothing.
"What?" she scoffed. "Can't I hold onto hope?"
He shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "We need all the hope we can get."
Their dialogue was cut short by a beep from behind. They glanced at each other before returning to the war terminal. The Orizaba's blip was now accompanied by another—the SSV Logan, another Alliance dreadnought. They exchanged a faint smile.
"Looks like we have company," Hannah remarked.
As Hackett was about to respond, a third blip appeared on the map, quickly followed by a fourth. Then a fifth, and a sixth. Within moments, there were more than a dozen.
The room's doors slid open, revealing the slim figure of Emily Cain. Her blonde hair, previously neatly tied in a ponytail, was now disheveled, suggesting she'd been rushing around the ship. She stepped inside and panted, catching her breath.
"Admiral Hackett, Rear Admiral Shepard," Emily started, finally regaining her breath, her face now lit up with a wide smile. "We've made contact. Admiral Singh is on vid-com."
Hackett's eyes gleamed. It was time to find out if they'd truly won the war.