Chapter Three - Old Man

“Don’t worry kid, those drone squadrons are closing in fast. I plan to discourage them a bit.”

Sam groaned and I couldn't help but chuckle.

Sky, switch to type 2 fragmentation rounds. I directed the request to Sky through the neural network.

(Switching. -Active ammunition changed to Type 2 fragmentation.)

I changed her position a little while making sure not to put too much stress on couplers. Taking aim, I fired 10 shots at the drone swarm. Almost half of them blossomed into expanding clouds of shrapnel, damaging surrounding drones. This stopped the laser bolts from being fired on us. I turned my attention to the damage reports. Shit. Recoil damaged coupling gear more than I thought. Sam is gonna chew my ear out for damaging her baby.

I shifted my attention to gunboats, there were waves of missiles coming towards us. Shit. They will put a large strain on shielding and may even blow up some shield generators.

Suddenly space started turning violet-black. I sighed in relief. It was a good idea to call Sam, I would be in some serious shit otherwise. Cockpit lights turned gentle blue, the sign of umbilical cord attaching safely. Why were these gunboats in a missile-heavy configuration, and there were two destroyers too. The alliance is beefing up the navy, but why? Hmm…

Swarm Disengage Neural Network

I climbed down the command jock, shimmying around the tangle of superconductors, collapsed secondary controls, and steaming nodes before making my way to the hatch. It hissed open into a thick, rubbery umbilical cord; hissing stopped as air pressure equalized. I crawled through the pressurized, flexible tube used for unaligned or incompatible hatches and airlocks. As soon as I was in the airlock, Sam’s voice rang out.

“OLD MAN!! YOU BASTARD.”

“Hey, hey, Calm down, I am coming to the bridge. We can talk there, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I am waiting.”

Uh oh, that cold tone. This is even worse than I thought.

(Good Luck, Prime.)

“Thanks, Sky.”

_______________________

I was sitting on a co-pilot's chair after getting my head scrambled by her lecture. Damn this girl can give a speech even better than my drill instructors.

(Prime, Captain is calling you down to engineering. She has made a task list for you to complete and it is a pretty intensive list.) I scowled.

“Damn, Bastion, I suspect some foul play here. What bullshit you spouted.”

(Prime, I merely pointed out that you are a less than optimal starship pilot so you can help in engineering. As you are much stronger than anyone you can do the heavy lifting and at the same time do the repairs. It makes you ideal for repairing damage in hard-to-access areas where bots are sub-optimal.)

“Fuck you.”

I got up and moved down to the bowels of the ship, the damned engineering. As soon as I got out of the lift she gave me a datapad with schematics, damaged areas, and instructions for repair. Then, she was gone and I was left there staring at the datapad. This corvette has five reactors, three primary and two back-ups. There was damage in primary and secondary circuits on various levels due to redlining the engines. This was going to be a pain. I activated the repair bot and got to work.

I completed the easy repairs within an hour. Which was to go to the areas with minor damage and attach the correct type of nanite packs and it will do its job. Now, for the hard part. Replacing burnt-out wiring, panels of backup reactors, and attaching nanite packs to areas not so easy to access; like the one in front of me. I have to crawl through a 1.5 by 1.5 meter tunnel with damaged, sparking panels, leaking pipes, and a lot of twists and turns. I also need to attach the nanite packs and replacement panels along the way.

By the time I was finished with repairs, I was ready to claim the cot. I don’t envy the engineers at all. How the hell did they repair stuff before the nanite packs were invented? A shiver ran down my spine, No, I do not want to think about that shit. I walked back to the lift access and deposited the remaining nanite packs and repair bots into the rack. Time for a nice hot shower.

I walked out of the lift to crew quarters and placed my hand on the officer quarters’ scanner. It was small and spartan. There was a bolted bed in one corner, a holo table, a bathroom, and blue carpets with an Imperial Warmonger insignia at the center. After taking a shower I crashed on the bed and fell asleep. I was woken up by Bastion a few hours later.

(ime… rime… PRIME!)

“Ah, good morning, Bastion.”

(Captain has called you to the bridge.)

“Coming. Bastion get me a couple of Nutri bars will you?”

(Sure, Prime. The bot will deliver your package in 3 minutes.)

I yawned and stretched. Ah, this feels good. I washed my face and took Nutri bars from the hovering bot. I walked to the bridge munching on Nutri bars. I pressed my hand on the scanner beside the Bridge bulkhead. It glowed green and the bulkhead opened.

“Hey, Sam.”

“Hey, Oldie. You did a good job with repairs, it seems like I underestimated you a bit. We are getting out of slipspace about 20 light-years away from the asteroid belt. Hellhounds must have neutralized the threats but just to be sure take the guns.”

“Sure kiddo.” I took the seat beside Sam.

“Feels good to control these babies, railguns are the best.”

“You and railguns.” She shook her head and chuckled.

“And yeah, sorry for shouting at you like that. I should have been easier on you Oldie, old people have patchy memory after all.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Anyways, Bastion stole some data and he is analyzing it right now, wanna have a look?”

“Sure.”

(This is a portion of the report I was able to salvage, the data I stole had an auto-destruction sequence included in it. Those sequences are really hard to deal with by the way.)

“Yes, Bastion you are the best. Data now.”

Mission Old Man’s grave

Maintenance Log

Report thi◣◐╠５③Ⅼⅸ〺wo

Chief Fleet Engineer

Disa Han&*%(*&

Commander Donnst ordered a cold jump.&§#%↽⥶⧬tress on warp drives. 〿〉』@#⧫➽₩₤to catch Hellhounds as soon as possible. Multiple burnouts reported on all ships. Overall Taskforce speed reduced by 10%. Primary Weapons offline in three frigates. Secondary weapons offline in 5 gunboats. Multiple point defense systems offline on all ships. Combat effectiveness dropped by 16%. Repair time denied by the Commander.

The second task force is at full combat capability %↽*^!#⍖⌛)*(&[email protected]

“Cold Jump, what!! Whoever this Commander Donnst is, he is an idiot.” I was baffled by what this idiot did.

“I agree Oldie, this guy is nuts. Bastion, is there anything else you stole?”

(Apart from this I found out that a Senior Marine, Sergeant Balter refused the cold jump and is going back to the command station. This detail was in an emergency Hypercom transmission but the rest of the data is either meaningless or corrupted.)

“Balter, why does this name sound familiar, hmm…”

“A sergeant disobeying a commander. Now, that would be fun to watch.”

(Incoming transmission from mothership)

“Put it on.”

(Yes, Prime.)

It was Prika.