1808/AC02-08EVENTLOG

Ω CHAPTER EIGHT: Clipped Wings

The Phoenix drifted through space, albeit at considerable speed. Systems had to be disconnected to enable repairs of others. It was a constant battle, repairing what they could whilst maintaining the battery levels of their neighbors. It was a level of stress that was very much unwelcome.

“Try now!” French shouted. Silence perturbed for far longer than it should have. “Oi! Try now!”

Within seconds he was showered in sparks. He batted them away like a swarm of flies, barely able to open his eyes to identify the problem.

“Shut it down! Quickly!” He barked. The seconds stang. In an instant the room was quiet once more.

However under closer examination the room rang out with a cacophony of curses. If it had been an error on his own part, the engineer would’ve taken it in his stride. However the newly connected power run-line showed no tell-tale signs of the incident that had taken place…

He groaned in absolute mental agony. His head in his hands, he made his way aft towards their reactor room.

“Skip try and blow us up again?” Jax asked with a smug expression on her face. She was working on her own mechanical problems, her arm completely swallowed by an access panel within the ship.

“Honestly, ye’d think he was doin’ it on purpose.” He muttered in response. He wasn’t even over the threshold when he started shouting. “What the frag are ye’ doin’ man!”

“You said switch the top dial to ‘open’!” His captain was well in over his depth, the glances towards the control panel showed not only did he not know what any of the controls did, but he almost looked fearful of them.

“Yes I did.” French slowly pointed at a near identical dial, albeit separated by a distinct blue border from its fellow. “This one…”

Skip glanced between the two. His eyebrow raised. “What's the difference?”

“Port…” French drew out each syllable, and then moved his pointing finger to the next. “Starboard…”

“You can read that?” Skip watched the frown appear on his friend’s face. The progress was slow, purposeful.

“What say ye’ grab KT before ye’ blow us up mate?” French barely contained his frustration.

“Why should I do that? I'm the captain!” Skip deliberately prayed upon that frustration. “You’re the monkey you do it.”

“The fate of our ship’s in the hands of the monkey is why! Off ye’ toddle before ye’ be limpin out of ‘ere with me wrench up y’er ass!” The temper flared once again when he heard the man mutter as he headed forward. “What was that!”

“I said you’d have to pull it out of yours first!” Despite the rather vicious verbal fistfight, both men parted company smiling. Although, Skip’s smile morphed into a frown as soon as he spotted something… out of place.

“Why are you not at the helm, Jax?” He raised an eyebrow.

“The Dagniri took over, for Dagniri purposes.” She withdrew from the opened panel, on spotting Skip’s expression, she donned one of shame. “Sorry sir, I know you ordered-”

“Dont worry about it.” He nodded towards her repair job. “What you doin’?”

“Rearranging the gyroscope control system. Disconnecting the damaged gyro on the starboard side and its mirror on the port, then vamping up the rotation rate of our other six to compensate and...” She spotted the blank look on his face. “...theres not really any point in me telling you this… Is there?”

“Not really. Carry on. Get her fixed.” He eyed her discarded datapad, the displayed image was far from soothing. Red lines ran across the various systems, most of which he had no idea as to their purpose, yet there was no doubt they were all needed. At such a time of woe, they’re chances of success fell with every encounter.

“I’ll do the best I can sir.” She flashed a brief smile, though it was the only sign bearing any joy. His lack of knowledge provided an ignorance to their problems akin to a blessing. She heard the footsteps retreat to their forward compartments, and only then did she enter the crawl space once more. Lamps ignited across her flightsuit, beams split the darkness from her eppelletes and her wrist computer, the illuminated problems made her sweat.

She delicately lay her hand upon a relatively unscathed component. She felt great empathy for their wounded Chariot, a feeling that no doubt united them all.

“We won't give up on you Darling…” She whispered to it, her gaze ran over the damaged mechanics ahead of her. “I promise..."

“We surrender! Please cease-”

There was no starlight through the viewport. Neither was there the ashes of the fallen, nor the ever approaching cloud of destruction that had swept through their space. The thick armour of the bridge’s shutters obscured everything. There were no distractions, and contrary to her own wishes, KT had turned their comms off.

Her mind was clouded with calculations. Trajectories wormed through nav fixes. Plans and counter-plans played out in her eyes, all the while they watched every screen, absorbing the data the Phoenix could give her. Getting to Mercurial Eye was easy, getting there in one piece was the challenge.

She was so absorbed in her work when Skip came over the threshold he wasn’t even noticed. Despite standing in her eyeline he was ignored as much as the various items floating around her. His mouth opened, however his voice was unheard.

Her mind rapidly left her thoughts the moment a verbose voice announced the reactivation of the room’s gravity plating. She was still shaking the strings of flightpaths from her consciousness when Skip spoke to her again.

“French wants you aft, repairs aren’t going so well.” He took note of her still spaced out expression, his eyes narrowed. “I do hope you were keeping an eye on our FCS while you were floatin’.”

“I have it up here.” She spoke softly, gesturing vaguely at one of the displays. The pull back to the world around her had been unwelcome and uninvited, she shook her head firmly to clear her thoughts. However hard she tried, her concerns still rang out.

When Skip dropped into his flightseat to take watch he brought those concerns into form, albeit without intent. The armoured shutters retracted, the cloud of fire and fury pulsed victoriously ahead…

“Save us!”

“What do we do… when we get there?” She felt insignificant in it’s gaze. The anxieties rose and boiled over. She had gone from in love with her duties as a spacer to in utter fear of their world hard enough to give her whiplash.

“Well, hope we can fly through it.” He replied. Exactly what she feared, and by the tone of his voice, so did he.

“Skipper, not even you’re that good. None of us are.” She now moved into his gaze, his frown put her even further on edge. “If we go anywhere near this thing… We’re fraggin’ dead.”

“We have enough time to figure out how to get through this.” He patted his console. “The Phoenix will get us through, she wont let us down.”

“Skipper the Phoenix is a gunboat, these bastards have taken out dreadnaughts!” She let the fear get ahold of her so quickly she began to feel shame. Years of training had vanished in an outburst that shouldn’t be forgiven, regardless how lax their ship was. She exhaled slowly. Gathering her thoughts, all the while fully aware Skip was waiting, albeit giving her the time she needed to shine. “I have an idea.”

“I figured that much.” He gave her a smirk, and the confidence that came with it.

“You see, Mercurial Eye is eclipsed by Hodge’s Moon right now…” She began, leaning across him to bring up the system’s cartography. “These… things… are heading counter spinward, which is sadly the quickest route to Mercurial. If we start heading spinward we just won't get there in time… Neither do we have the fuel to move our inclination enough to avoid it.”

KT brought up the Phoenix’s cartography, the image was bleaker than what their eyes could see. “The engagement area is a few dozen kilometers wide, and the debris field exponentially larger…”

He waited for her, eyeing her with the same admiration he did always. She worked her magic a few seconds later. “My plan is to hit the brakes immediately, we’re already in a slingshot maneuver and if we-”

“Slow down now we will drop our apogee.” He nodded in understanding, already checking the status of the flight systems for the maneuver.

“There’s a problem though…” She leaned against him now, she opened up the last debris data they’d received, she didn’t care it was outdated now. All that mattered was it displayed the new danger. “Widow’s Run.”

Skip’s eyes narrowed. “I seriously hope you ain’t planning on us skimming through that shiv storm.”

“No no, I agree that’s a death sentence.” She zoomed the cartography in on their encounter with the debris field. “That ring is too filled with rocks and wrecks for even an explorer to navigate through. However, because we are skimming the inner band we can revert and not lose much time.”

Skip ran his finger over their flightpath, then over their enemies. An idea began to blossom. “Where would they be when we revert?”

KT’s expression turned to deep concentration. The numbers seemed to flow over her vision. She imagined the dark lines drawn across the system, then within no more than a minute, she had the answer he wanted. “By the time we are through, they will be over us… We’ll see them in our scopes. They shouldn’t even notice us…”

"They came from nowhere! Please anybody, its com-"

“I said one moment!” French barked, barely dodging Jax as she darted to the otherside of the engine room. She hauled a massive cable across to the panel opposite, as french worked his magic.

“You want it in the high power port?” She called over the engine’s increasing whine.

“No I wanna jump start that engine off of the fraggin light socket!” He sarked, connecting his end just as Jax did hers. She was at his side in moments, watching the system charge rise and rise. They counted silently. The air felt heavier and heavier. The smell of a storm built, merely the precursor of the fury to come.

Jax raised her wrist computer. “You should be good now sir!”

The thunderous boom of ignition was felt by everyone. The rumble shook their bones, the explosive crash made their ears ring. Beyond the confines of the Phoenix her one lit engine dwindled like a fading candle, only to erupt alongside it’s partner in an elemental fury of fire and light. The inferno pulsed like a heart, with each beat her thrusters ignited. The Phoenix was awakened.

The crew all felt their stomachs lurch as she rotated to starboard. She became asheathed in fire, looking closer to a wreck than the ever capable vessel she really was. She gave birth to a vast plume from her drives, yet as quickly as it came she fell silent.

“Targets downrange to port, prepare to-”

“Great work kids. How’s she lookin’?” Jax grinned from ear to ear, wiping her brow and sparking a triumphant cigarette. However, French still leaned upon the control panel, his breath heavy.

“She’s hardly there, boss... but we got a serious problem over here.” He wheezed, trying to get his breath back. "Yeah our life support blew out in the collision, I can’t patch it again. We’re bottle breathing now."

"That's a problem." Skip’s response was less than helpful. French began letting loose a wave of rather inappropriate gestures, even for an engineer of a DSPG vessel. After a moment he’d calmed down enough to re-engage the channel.

"Fraggin’ iridium medal for understatement-of-the-fraggin’-era goes to-"

Skip cut through his friend’s sarcasm as quickly as he could. "How much oxygen have you got left, and is it enough to get us through to Mercurial?"

“You’d make it but me, KT and Jax would be dead before the halfway mark.” He paused. “If I shut it down now we could have a few hours. ‘Much as I’d hate to say it, we need to go into cryo. And sharpish.”

The engine room was silent, bar the gentle heartbeat of the Phoenix. There had been no response from the bridge, but it wasn’t needed, and at that time pleasantries couldn't be spared.

Jax waited for a minute before she moved. She didn’t go forward though.

French felt the hand on his arm and looked up. Jax watched him concerned, yet after brief eye contact she gave him a smile.

“You ok big man?” Her hoarse voice was as gentle as can be. French was silent for a long time, his breathing slowly came back to what could be normal. “If ther-”

“Just hate it when I can’t fix ‘er.” He stole a puff on her cigarette, shocking her slightly. When did he get ahold of that? “Forty years and I still don’t know everything… Its not good enough.”

“Ain’t anyone I’ve seen better.” She met his eye with confidence. But it was her time to go. “Only thing you need to improve on is the snoring.”

They both laughed, bumping fists as Jax headed for the chambers. French however, did not follow her. Rather he lingered in the engine room for a while longer, making sure it was squared away to a respectable level, or atleast what he called respectable. He tucked hanging cables out the way of the central gangway, and booted boxes of parts to one side.

He took a moment, as he did every time, to gaze almost lovingly at the rotating ring of lights that contained their drive core. He admired the gently pulsing lights, the calming glow betrayed the sheer power that raged in the Phoenix’s spatial distortion engine. It was a power that made one’s hair stand on end just being in its presence. He traced it’s conduits with his hand. It snaked past various systems and rapidly turning gyroscopes. They were maneuvering, He could hear the engines humm, the viewport to their heart lit up with sheer white light that splashed across the engine room in blinding, luminous beams. He came to rest his hand on one of the Phoenix’s twin hearts. The star-like core of fusion inside them caused the seams of it’s plating to glow an almost dull green.

The low power lighting kicked in at that moment, leaving the engine room lit only by scattered emergency lights and the low glow of its various components. He checked over the idling systems as best he could. French struggled to speak the displayed words aloud, instead having to rely upon the various graphics adorning the screen. He held doubts. A Lot of them. They rattled off in his head as he made his way forward, eventually they were put to rest. However it wasn’t by reason or facts.

It was at the sight of his crewmates, unwillingly getting ready for cryo. They’d stood side by side for long enough to act on instinct. They’d fought battles without speaking a word. If one thing could get them through this, it was their faith in one another.

And their love for the little gunboat they called home...

–––‹›––––––‹»

The cold, tranquil darkness was disturbed, as had been many times of late, by warriors.

The worlds were alight with fire, machines of war prowled their surfaces, and above…

The clash of titans was felt everywhere. Their footsteps left carnage in their wake. Storms broke the skies at their arrival. When their weapons descended, there was no more living regardless of which side was in their way.

Yet out here, in these dark depths, it was home to those who wanted no part of it. The isolation of space was a shield to those that wished to remain unseen and unfound.

Their wishes had not been granted...

“Report!” He barked, his voice proud with authority and amplified by his duty, it leached into every action, regardless of how insignificant or how life changing.

“Major, we have searched the entire ship.” A COBRA spoke up, he stepped away from the small crowd of men, women and children. His armour showed signs of many battles, just as did the rest of him. The scars on metal and flesh only made him more terrifying. “There are no known Dagniri officers onboard, it seems as though this ship went down over Rothcar. They got it working enough to get it flying again…”

“Don't let them frag with you Fougey, migrants don't take a destroyer to their destination.” He locked eyes with one of the mongrels, and the young man tried to avoid his piercing gaze.

“If you hear the stories about ships vanishing, and you had a serviceable battlecraft on hand, would you take it for a one way push from Proxima?” Fougey turned back to the crowd, he nodded a few times. “I know I would.”

There was sense in his words, yet there was no empathy from his commander. Facts were facts, motivation had nothing to do with it.

“Irrelevant. They’re in a destroyer, as you so rightly said, at a time of war. This vessel isn’t ours, there is not a single UHP officer on board. The only other category they fit in now is the enemy. Doesn’t matter if they have only their offspring as a defence.” The Major spat upon one of them. Utter filth. His eyes slid to Fougey. “And I doubt they’d still have hold of it when they enter Dagnir territory. Do you want to be done over by OPCom for handing over a destroyer when we are so close to crushing the few peasants that remain? What if they crash it into another city?”

The war was now getting desperate, for their rivals at least. There were no heroes in these fights. Every single combatant wasn’t trying to just kill their enemy, they were trying to break them.

The actions of the Dagnir rebels now set them on the path of deploying these barely human soldiers into enemy space.

“What do you want to do then? It’s not like Fleet Command wants people knowing we’re out here. We can’t crew this ship back to port, and we can’t leave it...” The third COBRA asked, he leaned on the butt of his weapon. He was the quiet one, but he was also the one that could take on an enemy tank battalion single handed, and the proudly displayed kill chart on his body armor showed he in fact had. Even standing easy, their captives knew better than to hide their fear.

"We can't take prisoners… and rules of engagement state we can’t kill Civs unless fired upon…” He thought for a while. "Dasher let off a pulse scrambler, tune it to their camera system. Dev, cut into their systems and do your magic."

"Sir?" Dev’s eyes narrowed. Her armour was freshly painted. She took pride in her service, the only of them that did. Her chosen weapons were different from her brothers at arms. They had a hidden lethality though. There was a reason her gauntlets were painted red, so no one could tell when she’d just torn someone’s heart out.

Dasher started grinning, he knew what was coming. Knowledge gained through experience.

"We need to scramble their comms, no status updates, no IFF. Do it. Right... Fragging... Now!" He ordered firmly, never once raising his voice. She nodded at him, setting off to her duties deep within the ship. She was worried about her squad's next actions, but she knew they were inevitable.

Dasher dropped a shiny orb to the floor. It hissed and fizzed as it clanged and bounced, within a second all the scattered camera optics, both shipboard and on their own persons sparked and went dead.

They were in the blind.

Suddenly their leader marched forward. Seeing clearly amongst the darkness he spotted an act of defiance from one of their captives. A mere glance to some, but the hatred was pure, it overflowed the fear he should’ve been showing.

The strongest of people break most violently.

He grasped the man by his hair, dragging him to his feet. They immediately began to beg and plead. After a moment with his gaze boring into the man’s terrified eyes, He forced his polished sidearm into his hand. "It's self defence if they attack us."

"How do we do that, Skip?" Dasher hissed, rolling his shoulders, aching for blood.

"Grab the weakest and beat them as close to death you can get them.” He ordered, a smirk on his face. “If that does nothing... start on the children."

“Sir?” Foguey looked confused, then he too was at the receiving end of that glare. He was one act of defiance away from being marked for death.

“You fraggin’ heard me Leftenant.” He grabbed the pleading man by the back of his neck and forced him forward. His words became a threatening hiss, despite being fully aware the man wouldn’t understand him. “I would not let go of that weapon starshine, you are all that stands between the rest of them and the cold grip of the beyond.”

“Sir I think this goes too far.” Foguey looked genuinely scared. He stepped forward to his commander. Skip gave Dasher a raised eyebrow, getting a nod in return. “Skipper, why are we doing this?”

“Brass likes their red tape… Gotta fill the checkboxes haven’t we?” Dasher paced forward menacingly, backhanding the armed man as he moved past. He noticed his gaze as he stepped closer to the crowd. The panicked look on the young woman in front of him said it all. “Sorry love, wrong place, wrong time.”

He began lashing out. Fast, sudden strikes. She desperately protected herself, yet he crushed any defence with ease, each one landed and knocked his target back. Intermittent impacts upon pressure points had her jolting back up again. She never got a chance to fall, she never got a chance to go down.

The armed man was now screaming and shouting. His language none of them spoke. Yet no one had a doubt as to his words. His fellows began standing, looking nervously to one another. Here was the moment. Fight or flight.

Skip smirked again when the man raised his firearm at Dasher, and the others began to charge…

“Big mistake beast…” He hissed.

And his brothers at arms did theirs. The gunshots all rang out, the viscous spikes lashed from their muzzles, lacerating and piercing deep into each of them, felling them like animals.

Skip’s hand slapped onto the man’s throat, the man who had unwillingly started this bloodbath. His eyes looked horrified, filled with tears. He pleaded with his eyes. As the last refugee fell, he didn't even have the strength to keep the weapon up. In his last moments he was broken. Skip forced him to his knees and began to squeeze. They never broke eye contact. The battle of wills was already lost. He who is victor is crowned king...

“All targets... deceased sir.” Fougey reported. He seemed to hold reservations, either that or the sight of the man jerking in Skip’s death grip was putting him off.

“Good.” He nodded. With a sudden lurch, the man’s neck snapped. Skip just pushed him lightly to the floor, yet he landed with a thud. He wiped his hand against his armour, disgusted at merely touching one of these animals. He glanced quickly at Fougey.

“You hesitated. Twice.” The Leftenant snapped to attention.

“It won't happen again sir.”

“I think you’re in the wrong service, Fougey.” The man was marked, and Skip did not hesitate to deal out the discipline required. He didn't make it obvious.

Fougey only realised something had happened when he felt droplets on his neck. He checked it quickly, his eyes going wide at the site of the viscous, black liquid. The toxin worked quickly, just as it was meant to. He was dead before he hit the floor, Dasher only lowered his Stinger when their comrade had stopped twitching.

“Go back to the Pegasus, get some of those weapons we captured from that Dagniri strike team, scatter them around the room.” He ordered Dasher as the man holstered the subtle assassin’s weapon. “Report in, we found them slaughtered, take some pretty pictures of it. Might inspire some new conscripts. Then set demo charges at the breakaway points.”

He looked down at his former comrade, now no different from their enemies. “Leave him in the airlock when we detach.

Skip turned about without another word, sweeping up his discarded sidearm without even halting. He flicked a switch on his bracer. “Dev what you found?”

Silence beheld this ship’s murky depths.

He made headway for the vessel’s bridge, surprisingly at ease with the situation. He would look back on this day, realising the hubris of his actions only in hindsight.

“Dev?”

He heard a click beside him, turning just in time to see a shape in the corner.

He didn't know what they shot him with, or indeed who. He just knew the pain was immense.

He stepped forward howling like an injured beast. The next hit shot his hand cannon from his hands, the fragmentation tore at his flesh. The rounds were flowing into him like machinegun fire, the armour did little to stop them. The thought of what was happening to his body as a result was flooding him with mortal fear.

He fell as a man with it. The soldier died with each hit, the fear made him a man again.

He didn't want to be a man...

But his afterlife was just beginning.