CHAPTER 42: JOHN
John
F.W.S. WarpStar
Epsilon Eridini
"WarpStar, Alpha One. Open data link for sensor exchange." John instructed the Combat Information Center over the open comm circuit, keenly directing them to transmit whatever sensor data they were currently gathering to his terminal aboard his modified F-401 fighter, affectionately named 'Betsy.' Below them, the immense Sphere began to react to the presence of their ship; lights flickered to life beneath their hull, casting an otherworldly glow across their cockpit, while doors and hatchways opened and closed with a mechanical rhythm that seemed both random and deliberate, a ballet of engineering in a silent void. As John and his crew dedicated their focus to analyzing the structure, it took only a brief ten minutes for them to identify something familiar within the chaotic display. The multitude of dock doors, landing pads, and viewing areas quickly led everyone to the same conclusion: they had stumbled upon a hangar of sorts. Hundreds of docking ports sprawled out before them, each large enough to accommodate fighters, while three colossal doors stood majestically, varying in size from small to extra-large, looming like ancient sentinels. John estimated that a battleship could easily navigate through the largest of those doors, a fact that both excited and unnerved him in equal measure. A collective decision emerged to explore this area, but not with the WarpStar itself. Instead, John, Charr, and the rest of the Alpha flight group would take their fighters, escorting two drop ships filled with marines and officers, each one brimming with anticipation and a hint of trepidation.
"Alpha One, Delta One. We are on final approach for docking bay one." The pilot of the lead dropship intently focused on his target, initiating descent procedures as they aimed to land on the designated pad they had named 'Docking Bay One.' The tension in the air was palpable, each crew member acutely aware that they were about to venture into the unknown, where surprises could lie in wait.
"Delta One, Alpha One. Understood, take her down nice and easy." John replied, his voice steady, though he pushed for caution in the back of his mind, aware of the weight of the moment. Deep down, however, he felt a strange sense of reassurance, convinced that no threats lurked within the confines of this giant megalithic structure. The ship's descent was smooth, and with every passing second, his confidence only grew, bolstered by a sense of destiny.
"Sir, I'm picking up a small energy buildup on the pads. It's nothing major—definitely no weapon capacitors or shield generators. From my estimation—no, I can confirm now—I’m detecting atmospheric pressurization and rising O2 levels in the observation rooms." Betsy chimed in with her usual enthusiasm, her voice a comforting presence amidst the tension that surrounded them. "Looks like we will be welcomed with open arms, so to speak."
"Betsy, I don't ever remember programming you with such a human personality." John remarked, a hint of amusement creeping into his tone, grateful for the levity she provided in this tense moment, grounding him in the reality of the situation.
"You didn't, but you programmed me to learn!" Betsy responded cheerfully, and John couldn't help but smile, proud of the AI he had shaped. Her ability to adapt and evolve was a testament to his own ingenuity, a source of pride that gave him strength as they prepared for the mission ahead, even as uncertainty loomed.
The docking operation proceeded smoothly, a surprise for everyone except John, who had long since come to expect the unexpected. The two drop ships settled onto separate pads, while each of the F-401s from the escorting Alpha Squad landed on the smaller pads with precision, a well-rehearsed dance of technology in the cavernous space. The platforms descended into the structure, seamlessly transporting each ship into a main hangar that was astonishingly vast, capable of accommodating hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of fighters, shuttles, drop ships, corvettes, and even frigates. The sheer scale of the facility was overwhelming, as if they had stumbled into a different world entirely, an echo of a time long past.
"Well, Hole eyyy—Shit." Cortez couldn't restrain his astonishment as he gazed around the massive hangar. The lights had sprung to life, revealing a breathtaking sight that left everyone momentarily speechless, their eyes wide with awe and disbelief at the magnificence that surrounded them.
"Cortez!" Major Thomson shouted, snapping back to reality, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. "Ah hell, I can't blame you for that one—Holy Fuck!"
"Yeah, I think everyone has that exact thought, Major." John commented, his eyes sweeping across the expansive room, taking in the sheer magnitude of their discovery, the endless rows of vessels reflecting the bright lights above like glimmering stars in a metallic sky.
"There's enough firepower in this room to glass the entire fucking fleet, skipper!" Cortez added, his voice laced with incredulity, the weight of the situation pressing down on him like a heavy shroud.
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John held his silence, captivated by the spectacle before him. The hangar was brimming with naval assets that could keep any fleet engaged for years. "Three hundred thousand Krait fighters, one hundred and fifty thousand blubber bombers, sixty thousand Vulcan drop ships, eighty-two thousand Frell corvettes, and twenty thousand Grett frigates." The room fell silent, and everyone stared at John, confusion etched on their faces as they struggled to comprehend how he possessed such detailed knowledge, the implications of which were staggering.
"How the shit do you know that, skipper?" Cortez blurted out, his disbelief palpable, shaking his head in astonishment.
"Cortez!" Major Thomson reprimanded, stepping in close to the marine's face, his eyes narrowing like a hawk preparing to strike. "Do you not know when to shut that fucking pie hole?"
"It's okay, Major. He's just saying what everyone's thinking." John interjected, brushing off the marine's interruption with a wave of his hand. "Three clicks down, there's a hangar with just as many sub-cap ships. Battleships, cruisers, destroyers—and a few more klicks beyond that, there are a pair of dreadnoughts." His voice was steady, filled with an authority that demanded attention, leaving no room for doubt.
"My god." Charr gasped, her eyes wide as she absorbed the enormity of the situation, her mind racing to keep pace with the revelations unfolding before her. "How deep does this structure go?" She stared at the seemingly endless maze of corridors, rooms, and bulkheads, struggling to grasp the full extent of this enigmatic facility that loomed over them, a testament to an ancient civilization's might that had long since faded from memory.
John didn't answer; he couldn't. The human brain was simply incapable of processing the true size of the structure they had entered. Instead, he began walking, instinctively moving in a direction that felt right, his subconscious guiding him through the vast expanse, a spark of intuition lighting the path ahead.
They traversed room after room, some with windows offering views into the unknown, while others remained sealed tight, shrouded in mystery and secrets waiting to be uncovered. Consoles, displays, posters, notes, and various pieces of equipment lined the walls and spaces of every chamber they passed, each telling a story untold, whispering of a time when this place was alive with activity. Power appeared to only be directed to the lights and doors; none of the other equipment showed any signs of life or functionality, a haunting reminder of a bygone era that echoed through the silence.
"Bloody hell! It's going to take centuries to explore this entire facility." Donovan remarked, his voice tinged with awe as he absorbed the engineering marvel surrounding them, each chamber more fascinating than the last, like pages of a forgotten history book waiting to be read.
"Here," John said after walking for only five minutes through the vast labyrinth, his pace steady and purposeful, his eyes scanning for anything of interest that might illuminate their mission.
"Sir." Major Thomson cautioned, his posture tense as he silently conveyed a message to his captain to hold back. He scrutinized the door, then motioned for two of his marines to take positions on either side. Raising his rifle to his shoulder, he nodded back at John, readying for whatever lay beyond, the air thick with anticipation and unspoken fears.
The hatch responded to John's command as he pressed the button to open it. Inside, they found only a pod overlooking a tunnel that closely resembled a rail system, a stark contrast to the vast hangar. The pod was just large enough to accommodate a few individuals, which left Major Thomson feeling uneasy. "Sir, I don't like this."
"Donovan, you're with me. Carr, go down this corridor; seven hatches on your left, there's another pod like this one. Press the twelfth button from the top on the right, then go through that corridor. Five doors to your right, there will be a chamber—I don't know how to explain it; the closest thing I can say is it's a remote flight control facility. See what you can do to get it operational. Try to gather a few of your pilots to assist you as well." John ordered, his tone firm yet encouraging, each word delivered with the weight of authority only a captain could wield, a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty.
"Sir, how do you know this?" Carr asked, curiosity laced in her voice, an edge of disbelief coloring her words. However, she didn't require an answer, as she caught a glimpse of John's implant, which was dimly lit, displaying a rotating sequence of numbers that hinted at something more profound than mere chance.
"Major, you and your brightest are with me." John dismissed Carr's question, his focus unwavering as he strode forward. "Listen up, I don't know exactly what is about to transpire, but I have a few guesses. All I can say is this is how we win this fight. Keep comms open, and remain vigilant. This facility is old, but it feels friendly." Each member of the away team acknowledged their orders, yet none dared to voice the thoughts swirling in their minds: "How the hell does he know all this?" John was acutely aware of their unspoken questions; after all, he was the first to wonder about it. He had known nearly all the details of this structure before activating his implant, merely using it to verify his knowledge and fill in the gaps, a secret that weighed heavily on him like an anchor in a storm.
"Cortez, you're with me." Major Thomson nearly shouted his orders, his voice cutting through the air with authority, asserting control over the growing uncertainty that threatened to engulf them. "Daniels, Riffost, escort the commander. The rest of you apes form a perimeter. Protect this area and the L.Z. Report anything unusual immediately." The tension in the air thickened as they prepared to move deeper into the heart of the unknown, each one of them acutely aware that they were on the brink of discovery—one that could change the fate of their mission, and perhaps, the universe itself, intertwining their destinies with the secrets of an ancient legacy.