By Confederate Space Force standards, the Hamaroosan ship Catch These Catching Hands Sucker was a heavy superdreadnought. By Hamaroosan standards it was a heavy battleship. The keel laid down over 600 years prior, it had served through a dozen wars and pounded entire fleets into junk with its mighty C+ cannons, plasma wave phase motion guns, its missile pod launchers, and every other weapon the huge ship carried. Additionally, its parasite craft were closer to corvettes and frigates than normal parasite craft. It had a ship's complement of nearly eight thousand Hamaroosan, and it was considered a duty posting of pride and honor.
Even at VN-28321, which was the middle of the three stars between the galactic arms.
Most species considered it a punishment duty.
The Hamaroosan had lost 6.2 billion citizens to the Mar-gite Resurgence.
They did not intend to lose any more.
The ship made up part of Task Force Sleepy Podling, a twenty-five ship force centered around the superdreadnought Your Carrier Signal is About to be Lost out of the Digital Artificial Sentience Systems.
A hundred years ago, the there had been six tasks forces on station.
The belief that the Mar-gite would never return this time had slowly eaten away at the picket strength of the system.
The one problem with Catch These Catching Hands Sucker was its need for steady maintenance. While it could operate for years just based on the massive creation engines embedded in its hull, all of them built before the Terran Extinction Event, the Task Force Admiral (Upper Decks) preferred that the massive ship receive its maintenance from the space station orbiting the sole gas giant.
Which was why Lieutenant (Senior Grade) Valandee was watching the techs finally put back on the casing over the massive fusion reactor's radiation shielding. The techs were all civilians, and in Lt Valandee's opinion, entirely too leisurely for his comfort.
His right hand aunt would have called them 'lazy grifters' and had them thrown out the airlock.
The whole ship was without power. All of the computers were completely shut down and locked down since the particle screens were offline. The intercom was out. The soup was put back in the bottles. Even the lights were turned off, only the battery powered emergency lights and the light stands attached to their own power sources providing light.
Which was why he was using the night vision option of his cybereyes to watch the civilians work.
Slowly.
His comlink beeped and he tapped it, already seeing Commodore Freelima's icon in his retinal link.
"Valandee here," he said.
"ETA to reactors being brought online?" the Commodore asked.
"Hour, maybe two at the pace they're working," Valandee said.
"Keep bridge and CIC posted," Freelima stated, then cut the link.
He shared her irritation.
Another sip of his coffee cup and he sighed, moving over to the reclamator and staring at it. He jammed the quikplas cup into it and moved back over to watch the civilians keep working.
They had four of the Telkan Marines and two of the Confederate Marine Corps Marines helping them put the plating back on while they 'supervised' slowly and moved like cold molasses to tighten the fixtures to keep the plating in place.
He turned to the Master Guns, opening his mouth to ask the big Treana'ad if the civilians could go any slower when he felt it.
Ghostly plucking at his bone marrow.
Both he and the Master Guns went ramrod straight. They both reached up to touch their own temples, bringing their comlinks on.
The lines were jammed on his end.
"Get them all up! Get them in full armor. I don't care if you have to tear the armory open with your bare hands, you get them suited up!" Master Guns was snapping into his comlink when Valandee quit trying to get through.
More ghostly plucking.
"Those are the big guns, sir," Master Guns Vo'Na'ark said, looking at Valandee. "I'm getting the Marines in armor."
One of the civilians yelled something as all four Marines suddenly set down the panels and took off at a hurried pace. Not quite a run, not quite a speed walk, about the safest speed you wanted to go through the passageways of a ship the size of the Catch These Catching Hands Sucker.
"Get into hard suits!" Valandee snapped, moving forward and waving his catching hands at the civilians.
"We need some help to put these panels back on," one said.
More ghostly plucking.
"What is that?" another asked.
"That's C+ cannons firing," Valandee said. He pointed at the emergency lockers. "Get into hard suits now," he snapped.
"Excuse me, you can't use that tone on," one began to say, putting her hands on her hips.
"We're a sleeping duck here," Valandee said. "We don't even have particle shields up. We catch so much as a graze, it'll rip right through the hull and you'll all be dead."
His comlink pinged.
Commodore Freelima again.
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"Valandee here."
"Get that reactor online," she snapped. "Mar-gite are coming into the system. We're disconnecting from the space station right now. We're using the maneuvering thrusters on local control as soon as we can."
"We're going back to the space station," the female Cemtrary said huffily.
"We're about to break from the space station, get in those damned suits!" Valandee wished it was permissible to hit non-Hamaroosan with his crop.
He dropped his hand to his pistol and made a show of unsnapping the retaining strap.
"Now."
They all moved over, some moving slowly until he yelled at them. When they started putting them on he reached for his comlink stud.
His cybereyes suddenly went white and his mastoid implant gave out a screech into his sensitive ears.
His eyes reboot quickly, coming back on grainy then clearing up.
He tapped his comlink.
"Freelima here," was the answer.
"What just happened?" he asked.
"Unknown, everyone just had their ware reboot," she said.
He stood there for a second.
"There's something wrong," he said.
"What?" Commodore Freelima trusted Valandee's instincts.
He stood for another second.
That's when it dawned on him.
"The guns have stopped firing!" he said. He turned to the two greenies, already in hard armor, by the reactor stations. "GET THAT ONLINE!"
"What? What... you're right, I don't feel them firing," Freelima said. Her voice got tight. "Get that reactor up, Lieutenant. I don't care if you're going to fry, the Sucker needs power."
"Roger, ma'am," he said.
The greenies were already moving.
"You can't! We don't have the casing on," one of the civilians said.
"Then get the casing on!" he yelled.
"We can't, you're going to start it up," the huffy voiced female said.
The greenies were pumping the hand-pump to generate the electricity needed to fire up the consoles. The bottom three red were filled and the bottom amber was starting to flicker.
There was another flash and his optics reboot again.
The lights next to the handpump were dark again.
The two greenies staggered, hands going to their heads, their legs giving out and forcing them to use their bladearms to stop them from going face first into the deck.
"What the hell is that?" Valandee asked.
He realized that his comlink had reboot and wasn't coming back online.
Think too long, you're wrong, cadet! the voice of the big Rigellian female drill instructor roared in his head.
He ran forward, grabbing the hand-pump bar and pulling it up with almost no resistance. He saw "MEDIUM/LARGE USERS GRIP LEVER TILL CLICK" and squeezed tight. Now he could feel the flywheel getting up to speed, the weird 'drag' on the handle. He pushed it down, pulled it up, feeling his shoulders already starting to strain as he started pumping it up and down.
Red.
Amber.
One of the mantid were on the control panel as panels started coming to life. When he looked at it, panting, he could see a fuzzy distorted static patch between the antenna.
"more more more" it grated out.
Nodding, he kept pulling it up and pushing it down.
Green.
"this one" another said, pulling open the panel.
He rushed over to it, grabbing the lever, squeezing the grip lever, and pumping it.
Between his shoulders was burning.
Red.
Amber.
Green.
He heard the clacking of the mag bottle solenoids powering up.
"this one" another greenie grated out, hopping up and down next to another lever.
He rushed over, looking at the civilians, who were clustered by the vac-suit locker.
"DO SOMETHING!" he shouted.
"Union rules forbid us," someone said as Valandee started pumping furiously.
Red.
His fur was soaked in sweat. He could feel the back and armpits of his uniform were soaked. It was running down between his legs. His tongue was hanging out as he panted, trying to bleed off more heat.
Amber.
His elbows hurt.
Green.
"hurry hurry this one" another greenie grated out.
He rushed over.
His comlink clinked.
"Valandee, report," came the Commodore's voice.
All he could do was pant as he kept pumping, the flywheel dragging on the magnets to produce current, the capacitors whining as the charged.
Somehow, she knew what he was doing. "Get us power, sailor," she said, her voice tight with stress. "Valandee, we're depending on you to get Sucker live."
He just nodded, sweat running down his face, burning his eyes, getting sucked into his nose as he inhaled, dripping on the floor.
Red.
He kept pulling and pushing, his vision going spotty.
Amber.
The whole universe had narrowed down to the lights, the bar in his hand, the lever on the grip that he was squeezing tight.
Green.
There was a loud humming.
"here here here hurry hurry" another mantid said.
He realized that there was at least six in the primary reactor power room.
The two or three overlapping ones were just one.
He rushed over, grabbing the lever, starting to pump.
Red.
It felt like his fur was suddenly standing up and he could smell lightning.
Amber.
"almost almost almost" the greenie said, standing on the board, one bladearm thrust into the dataport.
He kept pumping, his vision starting to go gray.
He couldn't get enough air.
Green!
The lights suddenly came on.
His legs gave out and he half fell half leaned against the console's case, staring at the lever, which was still trembling slightly as the flywheel slowly spun down.
His datalink clinked.
"Valandee," it was the Commodore.
"Here," he gasped.
His vision was still full of spots.
"Get to into armor, get to battlestations," she said.
Five Confederate Marines in full power armor, with cutting bars and submachineguns ran in.
"What... what's going on?" he asked.
"Not sure. Systems are still coming online. Get into armor, that's an order," she said. Her voice got tighter, like someone was pressing their thumbs on her vocal cords. "Now. Get up and get into armor now."
He nodded, even though he knew she couldn't see him, and staggered over to the emergency locker.
One of the civilians asked something, he couldn't hear what over his own breathing and the high pitched whine in his head. He pulled open the locker, grabbing the hardsuit and dragging it out.
"Here, sir, let me," one of the Marines said.
"Thanks," he gasped.
The Marine helped him into the armored vac-suit, holding his belt with his crop and pistol on it until he could buckle it back on.
"Valandee," it was the Commodore again.
"Here, ma'am," he said, still breathless.
"Get to the secondary battle bridge," she said. "Report when you get there."
"Aye, ma'am," he said. He headed out, reaching the door just as the power room engineers reached it. He didn't bother saying anything, knowing that they had been on downtime with the entire ship depowered.
Half the corridors had only emergency lights, twice the lights kicked on then died.
It took him long minutes to reach the secondary battle bridge. Twice he pressed himself against the wall as fully armored Marines moved by.
He noted that they were carrying the heavy weaponry, with the ammo-forges already hot.
He reached the secondary battle bridge and stopped.
Nobody else was there.
He tapped the stud, bringing up the comlink and tapped the Commodore.
"Freelima here," came the answer before the ringtone had even completely played.
"Valandee, ma'am," he said. "I'm in the secondary battle bridge. There's nobody here."
There was silence for a moment. "Do you remember your training to bring it online?"
He paused. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Libraries are down, you'll have to do it from memory. Get that bridge up," she said. Her voice firmed up. "It's a priority, Lieutenant. I don't care if Enraged Phillip himself comes back and tries to order you somewhere else, you get that bridge online."
"Yes, ma'am," he said. He moved over to the master control panel, yanking off the front casing to reveal the lever. He started pumping.
"What's happening?" he asked.
"Guns are on local control, we're trying to bring up the big guns. Launch bays are inop, no power," she said.
"What's happening?" he repeated, starting to pant. The burning pain between his shoulder blades and across his chest was back, sinking red hot claws into his flesh.
"The Mar-gite are back. Get that bridge online."
"How many?" he asked.
"Valandee, we're all counting on you, Lieutenant. Get that bridge up."
"How many, ma'am?"
There was silence for a moment.
"All of them."