CHAPTER 54: BRIGGS

Briggs

F.W.S Independence

Epsilon Eridini

Time ticked by, slower than a snail's pace, an agonizing crawl that seemed to stretch endlessly. Floating around in the dimly lit command room, the sensation of complete helplessness washed over him like a cold wave. He was alive, at least most of his crew in the Fleet Command room were alive, that much he was sure of. Cries for help, shouts of anger, and deep cries of despair echoed through the confined space, a cacophony of human emotion that only amplified his anxiety. What troubled him the most, however, was the catastrophic failure of the life support system. This system was meant to be a bastion of reliability, an independent unit fortified with redundancies, especially on a ship of the Independence'smassive size.

Her Life Support system comprised not one, but three MKII Fusion reactors, seventeen capacitors, and a multitude of backups for each relay. Completely isolated from any main system and securely buried deep within the superstructure of the ship, the system should have been nearly immune to any conceivable threat—almost anything that could compromise its integrity.

It felt as though days had passed, perhaps even months, as the stress of the intense battle faded into an unsettling stillness. The relentless combat had suddenly ceased, leaving an eerie quiet in its wake. Briggs's body began to calm itself, shaking off the flood of adrenaline that had coursed through his veins for what felt like hours. Slumber, that seductive thief of consciousness, began to overtake him. His eyelids grew heavy, and his heart slowed, relaxing in the zero-g environment he floated in, as he consciously surrendered to the temptation of sleep. Nothing left to do, nothing left to fight for. Just before his lids closed for what Briggs feared might be the final time, a flicker of light caught his eye. It was just a short, blue blip at first, a mere whisper of illumination, but then it flashed longer, longer still. Now, in a rhythm, three short blips, one long blip, then five short and one long. The sequence quickened, flashing faster than Briggs could count. In a matter of seconds, another light sprang to life next to it, then another, followed by a small terminal that displayed a timer counting down. A surge of adrenaline shot through Briggs once more as he realized what the terminal signified.

“Al….” Briggs cleared his throat, his voice raspy and dry from an indeterminate lack of fluids. “All hands, do your best to brace yourselves! Gravity is being restored!”

That terminal was the life support system coming back to life, and the countdown indicated the time required for the gravity plating to reenergize and provide the crew with the one thing they desperately needed: the pull of .7g. Gravity would be the first system rebooted from life support, followed by the oxygen recyclers and then the air scrubbers. Gravity was the most vital component for the crew, allowing them to move about, repair the ship, and seek help for themselves or their fellow shipmates. The crew attempted to orient themselves as best as they could to hit the deck with as much grace as possible, but every sailor knew it wasn’t absolutely necessary. The restoration of gravity wouldn’t be instantaneous; instead, it would gradually increase from .01 to its predetermined level to prevent injury from an immediate pull in situations like this. The crew would slowly descend until they safely hit the deck.

“All hands, General Quarters, Damage Control Alpha,” the Officer of the Deck commanded over the 1 MC, a promising sign that emergency power was beginning to pulse through the ship's systems once again.

“Does anyone have any sitrep?” Briggs asked, his voice echoing slightly in the tense atmosphere of the room.

“Power systems are starting to be restored. Antimatter reactors are being primed, and fusion reactors are beginning their first state of restarting. Emergency batteries are feeding the main bus with power, and we have secondary subsystems online. Life support has been fully restored. Engineering estimates three minutes until main power restoration,” came the report from one of the junior officers stationed at the Bridge, his tone a mix of urgency and professionalism. “All active sensors are reporting inactive until main power can be restored, but passive sensors are coming online.” The viewscreens flickered to life, revealing flashes of explosions and fire—the only visible light amidst the chaos surrounding the fleet—yet the lights from the few surviving ships shone brightly against the darkness. Legion ships cluttered the area, their menacing designs sending shivers of fear down the spines of every crew member who dared to gaze upon them.

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The Admiral stared at the fleet display, showing the passive sensor data, desperately trying to formulate a plan, one last, desperate measure to save his crew and possibly the fleet. Nothing came to mind; his ship was derelict, the fleet in even worse condition, communications appeared to be down, and all offensive and defensive systems were still without power. The situation felt utterly hopeless. “Ensign!” Briggs called out to the Bridge officer liaison, his voice cutting through the tension.

“Sir!” The young ensign shot up, her eyes wide with determination, fearless in the face of chaos, ready to fulfill her duty.

“I need ship status updates. When is main power going to be restored?”

“On it, sir!” The young officer quickly got to work, her fingers flying over the consoles. “Main fusion reactors are entering their power-up cycle. Engineering reports no major damage to the main bus, capacitors, or any of the reactors. The system just tripped during the jump. Antimatter reactors are spooling up as well, and engineering estimates main power restoration in fifteen minutes.”

‘Fifteen minutes, an eternity,’ Briggs muttered to himself, frustration gnawing at him as he quickly scanned more of the fleet readout panels. External communication was still down, and status updates from the fleet would be inaccurate at best. He felt blind, trapped with no options left. “Think, Marcus, think!” Briggs urged himself, his voice rising louder than he had intended, drawing a few curious stares from nearby officers.

“Sir!” A junior sensor tech chimed in, offering a glimmer of hope, a minor miracle that he desperately needed. “Engineering has routed secondary power relays to the sensor suite! The bridge is reporting availability of all active sensor systems!”

Relief washed over him like a cool breeze; this was excellent news indeed, though it wasn’t the ultimate solution he sought. Perhaps it would illuminate a path forward. “Excellent, Ensign! Go active, all sensors—light up the sky!”

Wave after wave of various radiation surged from the myriad of sensor pods scattered across the Juggernaut, flooding the space around them with a cacophony of data, from EM radiation to neutrino and graviton waves.

In mere seconds, the picture around the ship became starkly clear: the Independence was surrounded. Several hundred Legion ships swarmed the immediate vicinity, their ominous silhouettes blocking out the stars. For a brief moment, panic threatened to take hold, but Briggs managed to pause, his gaze locked on the display, puzzled by an unusual anomaly.

“Captain Smith, please report to the Fleet Command Room,” Briggs commanded, his voice steady.

He didn’t have to wait long; the Combat Information Center was directly attached to the Fleet Command Room, only a single bulkhead separating the two chambers.

“Yes, sir!” Captain Olivia Smith saluted sharply, her composure unwavering even in the face of chaos.

“Look at this, Captain. Tell me what you make of it?” Briggs gestured toward the holographic fleet display, a sense of urgency lacing his words.

“It’s… strange…” Her brow furrowed as she examined the fleet hologram, which vividly displayed the area surrounding the Independence.“It’s like the Legion ships are…” She hesitated, struggling to articulate her thoughts. “Protecting us?”

“My thoughts exactly, Captain. I honestly don’t know what to make of it,” Briggs admitted, his own confusion mirroring hers.

Just then, another ship appeared seemingly out of nowhere, as if the sensor systems had somehow misinterpreted this large disruption in space as part of the empty void. The sensors were not wrong or mistaken; the space had indeed been void until the WarpStar had exited FTL to occupy that exact spot.

“Communications are starting to come back online, sir. We are receiving a com request from the WarpStar,” reported the junior officer handling communications, her voice tinged with excitement.

Briggs and Smith exchanged a glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them as they both silently acknowledged the peculiar timing. Almost telepathically, they seemed to communicate, “That was convenient.” Briggs picked up the com unit, flipped the switch to accept the transmission, and replied, “WarpStar, it's nice of you to join the fight.”

“Yes, Sir,” Commander Watney’s voice came through, calm yet urgent. “No need to get your guard up, sir; the fight is over. All alliance ships have been eliminated. The Legion ships are here for defense and rescue.”

Briggs and Smith shared another glance, one that contorted their expressions, a silent conversation fraught with deep concern and disbelief. Not a word was spoken, yet their faces screamed their thoughts to the entire crew. “Commander, where is Captain Henderson?” Briggs asked, his voice steady yet laced with tension.

“Sir, I regret to inform you that Captain Henderson is KIA. I have assumed acting Captain of the WarpStar,” Watney replied, and a heavy weight fell upon the room like a leaden shroud. Briggs gripped the railing in front of him, fighting against the wave of despair that threatened to pull him under. “Fleet command acknowledges and recognizes your report. I authorize the field promotion to Captain and grant you authority over the WarpStar,” Briggs finally replied, his words heavy with the burden of leadership. “Now, Captain…” he hesitated, an unease creeping in over the thought of referring to someone else as the commanding officer of the WarpStar. “Please give me a SITREP.”