December 28th, 2261. Lambda Bootis System onboard the CNS Des Moines
The CNS Des Moines, an Oslo class stealth cruiser, was a unique ship in the Confederate Naval arsenal. It didn’t do any one thing particularly well, thus it was viewed as a journeyman of sorts within the fleet. The weapon systems weren’t as potent as a regular cruiser, nor was it as heavily armored as other heavy cruisers. It was very stealthy, but it was very large being a cruiser. It did possess one of the most advanced command and control suites that could connect with other forward scout ships.
Despite being just over three hundred fifty meters long and six decks it was a very svelte ship. It was barely fifty meters wide at its widest point. Six decks were crammed inside to house just about four hundred sailors.
But she had seen better days. Her main power was offline. Several of her dark grey armor plates were circling the ship. It was lazily spinning in an eccentric orbit around the nondescript and utterly forgettable moon of LB Minor 2. All those stealth systems and that fancy CNC room were all but useless currently.
As the ship continued to roll sunlight shone on the port side of the vessel, which was missing several armor plates. Several compartments had been fully exposed to the void. Bodies of fallen sailors were floating within their former rooms. Those poor souls were sadly not the only victims of the incredibly asinine attack their attack wing had undertaken under her captain’s orders.
The starboard side of the ship was surprisingly intact and mostly free of visible damage, aside from one of the external plasma lances which had been sheared off by a railgun round. The main drive cone was miraculously intact, as were all but one of the external slipstream generators.
The forward section of the ship had suffered the most extensive damage though. The bridge was the only section still mostly intact, though for how long was up in the air. The port torpedo and missile compartments were completely gone which were located on decks one and two. As was the ammunition magazine between it and the starboard compartment. Partially severed electrical conduits were sparking constantly.
The battle had clearly been lost. The entire wing that the Des Moines led wasn’t just damaged, but flat out destroyed. There was a frigate and another cruiser within the visual range that was even in worse shape. To any outside observer, they would have presumed that the Des Moines, like the other ships, and her crew were dead. Those observers would be wrong, which was very fortunately for a certain lieutenant.
Inside the bridge, Third Lieutenant John Lief awoke to klaxons blaring alarms. He unbuckled himself from his seat and rubbed his forehead. He was bleeding profusely, thanks in no small part to the large gash he suffered. His hand felt around his head to find where it started and ended. It was a long wound, starting near the top of his head and ending halfway down his forehead. It was unclear, but highly likely, that he had suffered a minor concussion.
It was but the newest wound of a great many he had suffered in his short life thus far. But it was far from the most grieves or life-threatening one. It and the concussion were just two more things to pile onto him that day.
Several small fires were active. The fire suppression system wasn’t functioning as expected. John unbuckled himself from his seat, bent over, grabbed a fire extinguisher under his seat, and leaped into action. The smoke was being pulled somewhere, but not toward the atmospheric recyclers.
John’s terribly no good bad day had just gotten worse when the ship’s onboard VI spoke through the speakers, “Micro hull breach has been detected. Suggest evacuating the bridge.”
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“Fuck fuck fuck,” John said to himself before he hollered, “IS ANYONE IN HERE ALIVE?”
The helmsman, Second Lieutenant Pierre Fortin said feebly, “I’m pinned. I can’t get out of my seat.”
John jumped over the consoles and landed in between the captain’s and first officer’s seats. The captain was dead. He had been skewered by a fragment of an I-beam that had been sheared off the ceiling somehow. The first officer was laying on the ground face down.
“Just a minute bud,” John said as he kneeled down to check the vitals of the first officer.
She was also dead; another part of the beam likely struck her head. John walked over to the helmsmen. As he did so Petty Officer Prince Minenhle stirred from unconsciousness and stumbled over to them.
“I can help,” Prince said.
“Unbuckle him now. When I pull on this thing drag him from the seat. We’ll do this on the count of three.”
Prince and Pierre both nodded.
“Three…Two…One…” John said.
With near herculean strength, John pulled up on the fallen beam pinning poor Pierre to his seat. As he did so John could hear a hissing sound grow louder. They needed to get out of here fast.
As John continued to move the beam he shouted to the ship’s computer, “Any other life signs on the bridge?”
The computer spoke, “Yes. Lieutenant Tommy Smith and Seaman Wako are alive.”
“Where are they?”
Prince had pulled Pierre from his seat but had stumbled and pulled Pierre on top of him as he fell backward. The two awkwardly got up and began walking to the door to the rear of the bridge. John spotted Smith at the rear of the room slumped against the base o a terminal near the ramp to the door.
“Pierre, can you walk? Prince, get Smith. Double time.”
Pierre limped slowly up the incline, using the railing to help him along, and kept the door open for the two men. John grabbed Wako unceremoniously and flung her over his shoulder and walked to the door. Pierre looked back at the hallway to see the remainder of the bridge crew.
John set Wako down on the floor gently before walking over to the terminal opposite Pierre. Prince was breathing heavily and checking himself for wounds. Pierre looked back at John with a shellshocked look.
“What in the fuck happened?” Pierre asked as he closed and sealed the door.
“We got our asses kicked. Just like how I told our idiotic fucking captain we would. God damn glory hound nearly got us killed,” John spat back.
John quickly worked on the terminal. The damage readings were extensive, so extensive that it couldn’t fit them all in the single screen that the Navy had programmed for damage readings. Under normal circumstances, they wouldn’t have needed more than a few rows to call out an item, but these weren’t normal circumstances.
“Ship, display the chain of command and the status of those officers.”
The terminal was blinking but displayed five names. Despite having a grand total of six months and a week or two’s worth of seniority, John was fifth in command. The first three names were blinking red, each note indicated no life signs could be detected.
“Where is First Lieutenant Deniz Aydin?” John asked.
The ship's voice responded, “Currently in sick bay, they have suffered severe burns and are being operated on at this moment by medical personnel.”
“Seal the bridge, authorization Lief Four-Tango-Two-Lambda-Niner-Niner,” John said calmly as he used his sleeve to wipe his forehead, “Are ship-wide communications still functioning?”
“Affirmative,” The voice said.
John pressed the ship-wide intercom button on his terminal, “This is Lieutenant Lief, I’m assuming command of this ship. I need engineering to focus on restoring the main power. Non-engineering crew that is capable begin room-to-room inspections. Do not enter any room without first verifying its atmospheric integrity first. Seal the rooms and contact the bridge crew on the secondary bridge. I’m sending people to the secondary bridge, communicate with them on the status of each room.”
Wako had woken up and looked groggy as hell. She was not steady at all on her feet but used the wall to steady herself.
“Pierre, I know it hurts like hell, but it’s not broken,” John said as he knelt down to check the officer's leg, “I need the two of you to coordinate things in the secondary bridge,” John looked at Wako, “Wako, stay here with Smith and contact the med bay, see if you can get someone to after the two of you. If they clear you, head to the other bridge.”
Everyone nodded, Wako’s nod was a bit concerning and she probably wasn’t really sure what was going on. John turned and headed down the hallway. Pierre spoke up before he could turn at the intersection.
“Where are you going, sir?”
John stopped and looked back, “We are not dying here. Not now. Not today. I’m heading to engineering to find out what is broken and what isn’t. You have your orders folks and by God as my witness, we WILL survive the day.”