January 14th, 2262. 05:00 CNS Des Moines – Engineering
Nerves were short with the crew. John had spent the last two hours sorting out the differences for not one or two, but three altercations that happened while he was sleeping. Lieutenant Perry Guetta’s ‘faction’ was agitating for surrender. The group was getting louder and bolder over the past couple of days.
But before John could deal with that he needed to speak with the engineers. The process of welding back chunks of the ship was slow going, but eighty percent of the armor plates that were orbiting or traveling with the Des Moines had been captured and welded back in place.
John walked to main engineering and immediately heard the argument between Ana and Deniz.
“That armor plate won’t fit there,” Ana almost stomped her feet.
“It doesn’t have to be a perfect fit. We just need material to protect the underside of the bridge,” Deniz said slowly pointing to the screen.
“Good to see you up and walking Chief,” John said, “Ana, from this point forward nothing is going to look good. Honestly, it’s going to look half-assed. The nice thing though is those three pieces of armor can be welded together and it will cover all of that area that we’re missing.”
John pressed a button on the terminal, and it played a crude animation of two of the armor plates scavenged from the CNS Ferdinand which was less than five kilometers away from the Des Moines. The third plate was rotated backward and slotted into place.
“Easy-peasy,” John said, “Y’all are welding them into place now, aren’t you?
“We are but Miss Fussy Britches over here is offended by it,” Deniz shrugged and turned around to monitor the progress.
“It just feels…”
John put a hand on her shoulder, “Like grave robbing. I know. But it’s as simple as this, we’re alive and they aren’t. We can’t change that, but those armor plates will let us live on.”
“Captain, I’ve got the drones working on the next batch of armor plates. Unlike the three we’re working on they don’t go in place as well.”
“Ana, this is ugly as shit,” John said with a smile as he pointed to the screen, “Are we getting any materials from the Dallas?”
“It’s too far away, and its orbit was nudged away by the Ferdinand. It will no longer intercept us,” Lieutenant Cho said as she walked in, “I need you in CNC Captain.”
“Y’all good?”
The engineers nodded. John turned and followed Eileen out of engineering. They walked down the corridor, but Eileen was refusing to answer John’s question about what it was about. The pair walked up the stairs and then back down in the same direction they came from. The door to CNC opened up.
John smiled, “Hey stumpy, how are you?”
Eileen and Beth’s mouths were agape. The picture of seeing his arm crushed and ultimately severed was still vivid in both their minds. John was just being a callous asshole in making fun of his coworker and friend.
“Oh my god, you didn’t seriously just say that,” Beth was the first to speak.
Billy started to laugh, “Fuckin’ hell man. That is harsh. I hate to admit this, but that was funny as hell. Like I really do because that name is going to stick.”
John turned, “Is it about him wanting to work, or actually having a legitimate excuse for being slow and not pulling his weight?”
Eileen tried to recompose herself and just shook her head, “Now that you mention that that is an issue I have too. But it’s about something else. Petty Officer, do you want to tell me what you heard?”
“Captain, I was approached by Lieutenant Guetta. He’s been talking to people on duty about abandoning ship. Here’s the recording I made of it,” Prince shook his head, “I know you were on the bridge and were basically forced into attacking the Alliance. We’d be dead, I would be dead if it weren’t for you.”
John took the chip from the crewman’s hand and walked to the terminal behind him. When he plugged it into an open port the audio playback began immediately. John ran a sub-routine that the others didn’t recognize. When the recording was finished, he turned to face them.
“Captain, we’re on board,” Eileen said firmly.
The others nodded in agreement.
“Keep this quiet. Computer, where is Lieutenant Guetta now?”
The computer paused, clicked, then eventually gave a response over the speakers in the wall nearest to John, “In the aft evacuation room.”
“How many others are with him?”
“Twelve.”
“Display names on the console.”
Billy stood up, “Do you need some muscle?”
John didn’t look back but stared at the console, “I really do appreciate the willingness Billy, but the blunt truth is you aren’t physically capable of what I need. On the other hand, the marines are exactly what I need.”
John pressed a button to connect him with the Marine contingent’s NCO, Zach Miller, “Sergeant, get all the marines together and wait at the corner to the aft evacuation room. Double time it.”
“Be there in two.”
“Be quiet when you arrive, do not go into the evacuation room,” John said as he walked out of the room.
05:45 CNS Des Moines – Evacuation Room
John was outside the door to the aft evacuation room. Now there was no good reason for thirteen people to be in this room. John was typing something in the terminal. He pressed the green button to record the audio and video in the room.
The screen on the terminal showed a video from the corner of the room, “Why the hell can’t you open that door?” Perry shouted.
“I’ve never seen encryption like this. I don’t even know where to begin with this,” Pierre said.
“Sir, we have five more minutes until we’re discovered,” Kaori said.
Perry laughed, “I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he finds out the two of you are with me.”
Pierre stopped what he was doing and turned around, “I’m not with you sir. I want to take my chances with surrendering. The stories can’t be true.”
“Stop talking and keep working, we need to get the door open,” a voice said from out of view of the camera.
John instructed the VI to do a voice match. He also added three additional layers of security to the outer doors and the escape pod activation sequences. Then he unlocked the outer doors encryption when he saw Pierre working on a specific sequence.
“Holy shit balls, I fucking got it,” Pierre said as he opened the door to the escape pod, “Now all we need to do…”
Perry walked over, “Are we there?”
“Fucking hell. Why are there encrypted safeguards for turning the pod on or activating the communication systems? And the damn outer doors. Good lord,” Pierre said, “There are multiple encryption layers on basically everything sir. It’s going to take days to get through everything.”
John shook his head and waved to Zach, “After I enter, come up to the door and watch the video. If they start a fight run in.”
Zach nodded.
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John then opened the door and walked in casually. The two crewmen that were on either side of the door froze. There was something about their acting captain that terrified them. Perry didn’t notice that the door had opened. John continued to walk forward until everyone except Pierre and Perry had seen him.
“Looks like you’ve been busy,” John said calmly.
Pierre jumped inside the escape pod and slammed his head. Perry looked like he almost jumped out of his skin. He took a couple of steps back from John, he didn’t know whether or not he’d be attacked or not.
“I get it. You are all afraid. You hear these easy words, give up, surrender. It can’t be worse than this,” John turned to look at everyone in the room, “If you knew, if you saw the brutality, I’ve witnessed firsthand there is no way you’d even think to get into one of those behind enemy lines.”
“You are so full of shit. The Alliance isn’t the barbarous monster you make them out to be.”
John sighed, “All of you will follow me to the CNC. The marines will ensure your compliance.”
“Not the brig sir?” Kaori asked.
“It seems that light needs to be shown on your ignorance.”
“What if I refuse?” Perry said defiantly.
“What makes you think you have a choice in the matter?” John turned and then walked to the door, “Now come with me.”
John made a gesture to the camera. The doors opened and in came ten marines. Zach stayed back by the door. Despite some grumbling and protests that fell on deaf ears the group of malcontents followed John. Perry was the last one in line and tried to avoid going to the CNC. The marines made sure that he followed suit.
When John walked in the crew inside the room stood up and were surprised by their new guests. Especially with what they had heard Prince accuse them of. Billy was about to say something when John raised his hand.
“All of you out, now. Marines, you may stay,” John said firmly.
John walked over to a terminal and began pulling up some files. It took far longer than he wanted to, the ship's computer was not behaving as quickly as they were used to it functioning. Perry walked over to the central projector.
“Why the hell are we here?”
John said very dismissively, “I am here to enlighten the unenlightened.”
“Are you calling me an idiot?”
“Your actions are bordering on treasonous, and one could interpret your attempts at bringing people onto your side,” John let the words hang a moment before finishing his thought, “Coups have started over less. Ah, here we go.”
A video began playing for a moment before it paused, “Who here can tell me about the incident involving the CNS Streak?”
Pierre was still rubbing his head, “The Alliance attacked our Destroyer, boarded it, and took the vessel back their space.”
“Continue,” John said quietly.
“All hands were lost,” Pierre said, “But it was presumed that the attack caused a hull breach that vented all atmosphere.”
“Wrong, they responded to a false distress signal and an Alliance special forces team boarded and took control of the vessel. The ship was then flown to this agri-world. This happened about seven years ago in 2255,” John said as he leaned back in his chair, “Lieutenant Guetta, I would advise you to turn and watch the screen.”
John then started the playback.
The cameraman was about three kilometers away on a rocky outcrop full of orange and green vines. The valley was cleared of trees and made into several rectangular fields. It was difficult to make out what time of the year it could be in this unknown world, but the fields were clearly harvested. Voices could be heard in the video, one, in particular, was very familiar to the individuals that were focused on the video.
“One more question. What was the crew complement onboard the Streak?” John asked.
“Ninety-seven,” Ensign William Marston said.
“Close, it was actually one-hundred-six people. There were nine diplomats onboard which was kept very quiet.”
The playback continued. For the next couple of minutes, not much happened. The video zoomed in when movement outside of the ship could be seen. Thirty people came out of the front ramp of the corvette. The camera briefly panned over to the right and a slightly younger John Lief was clearly shown. In the video, John tapped the cameraman’s shoulder and pointed back.
The people that came out of the ship were lined up in front of the same number of Alliance soldiers. John could be heard saying in the video, ‘Those assholes can’t…’ before the familiar crack of rail, rifles could be heard. The bodies of the friendly sailors fell backward and limp. John burst into action and began running and hopping down the cliff surface before his stealth suit activated.
His voice became much clearer in the video, “Go back to the shuttle and prep it. We’re going to be doing a hot extract.”
“Those weren’t our orders,” the other voice said.
“We weren’t expecting these fuckers to butcher our people.”
“Another voice said, we may not have any survivors left. There’s a mass grave dug five hundred meters in front of the bow,” a third voice said.
“Get the shuttle ready.”
The discussion in the video stopped. The camera was left where it was. It began to zoom in on the action by the ship. Enemy troops were picking up and tossing the dead unceremoniously in the back of a grav-hauler.
Moments later a pink-red mist, characteristic of an exit wound, was then seen exploding on the skulls of enemy soldiers. Five had dropped dead before anyone had reacted. Those that did react were terribly confused. Several more dropped dead. Knives were pulled from their fallen bodies and thrown at the other soldiers.
The camera could just barely identify where John was. His camouflaged form was moving between the men at an inhuman speed. Slashing or stabbing a man here, shooting a man there. It took less than two minutes for him to dispatch twenty soldiers.
The ten he didn’t kill were blissfully unaware of the attack of their fellow countrymen. Ten long minutes of nothing happening. Then one of the plasma blast guns activated and rotated down and out to target the grav-hauler.
“That was the last batch of friendlies,” John radioed, “Diplomats secure. Bring the shuttle to the field.”
The plasma blast gun fired. The soldiers had no time to react to the white-hot ball of plasma that was fired upon them. Everything was incinerated immediately. A semi-circular hole about thirty feet deep was left in its wake. The grav-hauler just ceased to exist.
A shuttle could be seen landing off the starboard side. People ran down the ramp, then it flew off. The playback was then sped up. Twelve minutes later, the Streak exploded, but it wasn’t a plasma explosion where everything is cleanly incinerated. Before the feed ended it looked awfully like a thermonuclear explosion.
The camera feed shut off but then switched to an external one on the shuttle. The apocalyptic mushroom cloud soared into the atmosphere, very nearly reaching the void above the planet. The shuttle shook slightly when the powerful shockwave passed them. The video was then cut out.
“Our crew was taken to the moon around Kepler Minor. This moon was the most productive agricultural world the alliance had. The key word here, was,” John said quietly.
“The Alliance news reported it as an industrial accident that greatly reduced output,” one of the crewmen said, “Unless I’m mistaken.”
John shook his head, “That is the official line from the Alliance. I salted that word for their savage treatment and unlawful pirating of our vessel. The diplomats were scarred for life because of those assholes. In a bit of irony, they were all Alliance sympathizers before this incident.”
“This was a Naval Intelligence operation, right?” Pierre asked.
John nodded his head.
“Salting a world is a war crime. Even an accidental one is a cause of great concern.”
“It is,” John said as he walked to the front of the room.
“Why would you do that?” a crewman said from the rear of the room.
“I got angry, and I wanted justice…” John paused and shook his head, “No, that’s the official word on the record. I wanted to exact revenge for our fallen brothers and sisters. Take our ship in our space, we ruin your world. It took the Alliance six years to prod the sleeping dragon once more.”
“Why are you showing us this?” another crewman asked.
John put both hands on the terminal in front of him as he leaned down and looked at the cabal of escapists. Gone was the quiet and disappointed look on John’s face. A visage of barely contained rage and anger was there.
“I’ve salted a garden world. What makes you think I will have trouble spacing each and every last one of you traitorous filth? Do any of you think I’m going to lose sleep over being the judge and jury for your crimes and executing you? Think again. You can join me on our quest to get home, or I WILL grind you under my heel.”
Everyone in the room, besides the marines and Perry, looked horrified. But they all absolutely believed John was not only capable of killing them, but he was also more than willing. Their will and spirits were collectively crushed. They submitted to John’s will.
“Your room assignments have changed. You’ll be broken up into two groups, sleeping in the third and fourth bunk rooms. Rec room privileges are suspended. You’ll be given a meal, work eight hours, get another meal, then work three to four more hours before you hit the bunk. The marines will be watching you. Good behavior will be rewarded. Your dismissed,” John said firmly, “Perry sit your dumb ass down.”
Eight of the marines guided the escapists to their former rooms to pack. Each one of the marines had a look of loathing for their crewmates. To their great surprise, none tried to fight the edict of their Captain. Whatever drive or desire they had to leave the ship was gone. They were consigned to their fate now, the simple binary options of living or dying.
John stared Perry down. Perry was a confidant, bordering on an arrogant man, but this treatment was difficult to handle. Being stared at this silently was simply uncomfortable. And the hostility could practically be tasted in the air.
“What the fuck are you going to do?” Perry smirked, “Kill me and they will get off the ship.”
“Their spirits are crushed. They are now consigned to the Des Moines fate, their ability to influence their own will is now gone. You on the other hand remain cancer that cannot be overlooked.”
“Oh, I’m cancer now,” Perry stood up aggressively, “You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy this.”
John raised a hand to stay the marine’s hand. Perry ran forward and threw an awkward punch at John. Which was easily dodged, but John caught Perry’s right wrist in his left hand and clamped down on it with a vice-like grip. A feeble whimper came from him as he felt the pressure wrap around his wrist.
John then used the terminal separating the men to vault up and over Perry. When John landed, he pulled hard on the arm causing perry to fall backward. John let go of his arm and spun and kicked Perry in the lower back before he fell down.
He then reached down and grabbed his other arm pulled him up and threw him to the main exit for the room. He crumpled against the door and slid down it. John walked over to him and picked him up by the next, pinning his neck against the closed door.
“Submit or not, it doesn’t matter to me. But you will not poison anyone else. You are confined to the brig. Your fate will not be determined by me though. You are being charged with conduct unbecoming an attempted assault of a commanding officer. The coup charges will be determined by someone else.”
John let him go and turned to the remaining marines, “Bring him to the med bay. Have the doctor check him out. If he is cleared take him to the brig. Solitary confinement, if he misbehaves, we’ll go sensory deprivation but I’d prefer to avoid that step.”
The marines nodded. With that, the plot to sabotage their possible secretive escape from the system was now dealt with. But in a way, it was also John’s first failure at command. He would have plenty of time to ruminate over how it had gone this far.