In the middle of the 21st Century humanity received a decisive answer to one of our oldest questions;
"Are we alone?"
A probe from the wider galaxy landed on our world.
The computer contained within analyzed our language and with a broad spectrum transmission to the whole world told all of humanity the truth. That we were isolated in an incredibly hostile part of the galaxy. The only advanced life to survive in the pocket that the wider galactic community calls 'Cruel Space'.
The device then began to spew out information on how to construct ships that we might rescue ourselves from the cradle of humanity.
There was hesitation at first, confusion, but the decision by the United Nations was unanimous. The galaxy had extended a hand to humanity, and whatever was actually out there, humanity would reach back.
It led to the first great collaboration of our whole species. A whole world working together to produce one mighty ship, the Dauntless.
Commanded by the legendary strategist Admiral Garfield Cistern, the Dauntless would be crewed by the absolute best of all of humanity. While the years-long construction project to make the Dauntless began, she needed a crew to man her, and to make first contact on humanity’s behalf.
The probe had asked for a mix of every kind of human for first contact. A call went out for volunteers planet wide and great lotteries were held. Millions threw themselves into a grueling two and a half year training course designed to only pass the best of the best for a chance at the stars.
Each man and woman had to be a peerless soldier, but also a skilled technician, rough and ready explorer and mindful diplomat, for we did not know what challenges they would face away from our world. When the dust settled from this training, only six thousand people remained.
This was the hope of humanity to reach the stars.
To escape the harsh circumstances of our birth.
To ensure a better future for all mankind.
These were the men and women who would lead us out of Cruel Space.
---
The escape from Cruel Space began... with a desperate attempt to cling to sanity.
Months over months of zero g, crammed into incredibly tight quarters without nearly enough work to keep the mind distracted. With not nearly enough sensation to keep the mind grounded.
It damaged even the best men.
All the more so when many of the men and women of the Dauntless had personal tragedies to nurse. This was a one way trip so far as anyone knew. No one knew for sure what lay at the other end. Could even begin to guess what was on the other side of the line on the map that delineated the space where the world of humanity's birth resided from the rest of the galaxy. Whether the probe had been a trick to lure them out to be sold off as slaves. Or turned into cattle. Or have their souls feasted on by Eldritch horrors.
So everyone aboard the Dauntless had some kind of loss to carry with them. Whether they had recently lost their loved ones, or burned all their bridges with kith and kin. Or simply walked away from all they knew and the traditions of their people to take a chance at the stars.
So people coped where they could, be it with exercise, or consuming media. Spending time with their fellows. Or if they were extremely lucky, finding a quiet corner for a brief, blessed moment of isolation.
Commander Jeremiah 'Jerry' Bridger preferred isolation when the insanity clawed at his mind... and the grief welled up. Isolation that was a hard won privilege of his rank aboard the crowded Dauntless. Yet, it didn’t stop him facing the same challenges as the rest of the crew.
As a long-time special forces professional, when he was on a mission, controlling himself was simple, but the only mission right now was to survive... and make it to the wider galaxy where physics apparently worked entirely differently.
So when not engaged in his work, or doing his best to keep his operators, and any other incidental grunts he ran across occupied, he would take a quiet moment to think, and remember. Remember the many men and women he’d buried back on Earth in his fifty five years of life. Remember losing his parents. Remember losing Togo, his faithful companion of many years. The loyal dog had passed away of old age shortly after the beacon arrived, leaving Jerry alone. He had no ties to the Earth, but there was a future for all mankind in the stars... and perhaps, not just mankind alone.
It was easy to just remember… but wallowing in pain wasn’t the Marine way. It wasn’t worthy of a professional warrior. Warriors acted. So he had joined the greatest adventure in human history… with a secret mission of his own as humanity reached for the stars.
Tucked away in a hidden compartment of his personal belongings, a special hard drive waited. If the galaxy wasn't full of horrors. If the hand of friendship had been extended honestly, perhaps there would be a chance for Jerry to complete his mission.
"Attention all hands! Axiom drive is going live! Artificial Gravity is going live! Repeat, stand by for artificial gravity."
Jerry glances up at the screen that was rotating through some photos he’d taken on various trips around the world a final time before kicking off and orienting himself towards the floor of the room, using a nearby hand hold to keep himself in position.
The lights go out, leaving him in blackness for a moment as the ship’s systems convert, not only to a different drive core, but an all new power system. Red emergency lights finally blink on, leaving Jerry’s quarters dyed a deep, bloody hue. It felt a bit foreboding really, even without an alert klaxon blaring sending them to battle stations.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Finally the lights come back on and there's a sharp jolt as the gravity kicks in and his feet touch the ground the 'natural' way for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, leaving him stumbling to catch his balance.
Zero G was a miserable way to travel, and Jerry could feel that even with constant exercise, his body had atrophied slightly. Something he’d need to correct as quickly as possible.
It was a hell of a situation in the end. Whatever made Cruel Space cruel, the probe hadn’t really been equipped to explain it, ‘normal’ galactic technology as taught to them by the probe didn’t just not work in Cruel Space, it tended to violently explode.
That was something the engineers who had built the Dauntless had found out the hard way on one or two occasions.
No FTL travel. No artificial gravity. Not one of the many new technologies they’d built into the Dauntless per the alien instructions would function until they made it out of the region of space that held Earth in its grasp. Even using spin gravity, which might have alleviated some of their issues, would have compromised the design of the Dauntless for use outside of Cruel Space, and left them vulnerable to Cruel Space itself. The probe seemed damn sure the Dauntless needed armor on a scale no human had previously been able to conceive of to survive.
So the very sensation of gravity pulling on his body was in a way a small victory. The main drive system the Dauntless had been built around had been successfully powered up. They’d be accelerating to near unheard of speeds to make a rendezvous with alleged envoys from the Galactic Federation, the alien governing body who had sent the probe to them. They’d get more navigation information and head to the galactic capital, Centris, to deliver Admiral Cistern as the emissary of the human race to the wider galaxy.
Jumped up messenger boys? Maybe, but they had escaped all the same. They were a step closer to being able to make first contact, and start looking for ways to get more people out of cruel space, or find other types of aid to send home. That however was for the command team to worry about. Right now there was work to do. In a galaxy of unknowns, the human thing to do was to arm up and be ready for a fight, and that was very much Jerry’s business.
Jerry pulls his comm unit out of his pocket and dials a familiar number.
"Top."
"Yes, Commander?"
First Sergeant Gaje Gurung, VC. Royal Gurkha Commando and living special forces legend answers without a second of lag.
"Get everyone to our arms room. I want everyone to do a final gear check and we're going to do our first brief out of cruel space."
"Aye aye."
Jerry tromps down the passageway, enjoying the satisfying sensation of just walking again as the impact of his boots echoes off the deck plates. He strides with purpose towards 1st Special Forces Squadron's arms room.
"Attention on deck!" Snaps one of his operators as he passes through the door.
"Carry on!"
Jerry moves towards the head of the room, where his own equipment locker lay. It only takes a few seconds to go through the familiar ritual of strapping his equipment back on. Made a little odder by the light pressure suits they wore as a matter of course, but familiar all the same. War belt. Thigh holster strap. Body armor. Rifle strap. Massive FK BRNO Field Pistol loaded, safety on. Magazines for his MDRX rifle were left in their pouches for now. Helmet in its bag, and gloves on their carabiner.
He takes another second to adjust the hang and position of his Kukri fighting knife.
Every man and woman of the Dauntless's elite special forces operators had been trained to use them by First Sergeant Gurung and his two fellow Ghurkas. They had been awarded their knives as proof of completing their training, and now, whatever other bladed weapon they might have preferred, they carried them as weapons, tools, and badges of honor.
Jerry's eyes sweep the room, watching his assembly of the finest warriors on Earth. Would they be enough as the sharpest tip of the longest thrown spear humanity had ever thrown?
They'd have to be.
All of humanity's future was riding on it.
"Okay people, heads in!"
Everyone's focus is immediately on their commander.
He had SEALS, SAS, British Royal Marines, Delta Force, Green Berets, one GIGN officer, fellow Marine Raiders, a CIA Special Activities Division veteran, Republic of Korea SEALs, Israeli Sayeret Matkal, Spetznaz from several countries, Japanese commandos from their Special Boarding Unit, and the all important Gurkhas.
A whole world of special forces experience in one room, forged into an unbreakable alloy by three years of grueling training.
The rest of the Dauntless's crew had enjoyed a mere two and a half years of training. The elite special forces operators had helped design, test and run the course itself. Then they had gotten their own extra training from Top Gurung to ensure they were a cut above.
The tip of the spear had to lead after all.
It had been hard at first, most of the crew didn't speak English. Now they all spoke Galactic Trade, the lingua franca of the galaxy, and all business aboard the Dauntless was conducted in that alien tongue.
"Well. I feel like I should say good morning. I certainly feel like I just woke up now that we actually have our feet under us again."
There's some shared chuckles, but Jerry could tell everyone was feeling much better to be back in gravity.
No longer having to use zero g toilets alone could inspire all sorts of positive feelings in people.
"So now that we're out of Cruel Space, we are fully back to work. From now on I expect you to have your kit with you at all times. Just like we’re back in the field people, you will take your primary weapon to the shitter with you, and you better have her hanging on a hook when you shower. Response time fully equipped is under five minutes. So prepare accordingly."
Jerry gestures to a map on the wall that indicates some of the ship's defensive emplacements, including the room they were in, and the room they were about to head to.
“When on duty for rapid response we'll be in a centralized ready room, in gear, for six hours standard, and up to eight to twelve at a pinch. I’ll work out the rest of our daily schedule to include unit PT and whatever our training for the day is with Top and send it to your comm units.”
Jerry paces down the row of lockers, gesturing clearly at the 1MC speaker that allowed the bridge to address the whole ship, and most critically, sound the signal to go to battle stations.
“If the ship goes to battle stations the ready room will also be our battle station. If you cannot make it to your battle station because of battle damage, or because you run into the enemy first, you will establish local control of the defenders in your section, and organize them to repel the enemy from the Dauntless. Along with the other special forces personnel, that is in point of fact our primary mission till we make it to the galactic capital of Centris. Defend the Dauntless from incursion and kick any bug eyed monsters that want a pieces’ teeth in! Assuming we don't get eaten by eldritch horrors or some shit first."
Jerry walks through the room, meeting his soldiers’ eyes.
"If there are eldritch horrors waiting to eat us, I expect all of you to fight till you can't any more, then cause the bastards severe indigestion as they knock you back like a fun size candy bar. Questions on that?"
Jerry looks around again, walking back to the front, waiting for the chuckles at his joke to subside. There were almost never any questions. They all knew their business.
"We'll also conduct boarding actions or similar procedures if the opportunity presents itself. Don't want the regular line animals to get in over their heads when we're on call right?"
Sharp nods, a few smiles. One raised fist. Every last one of them had the confidence and pride of a tiger in his den. Master of his or her domain.
Oh yes. His people were ready. That quiet confidence. The satisfaction of having a job to do and knowing they were the best people to do it.
The men and women of the Dauntless were the literal best humanity could offer. The best of the best. The Dauntless’s special forces personnel were the best of them, and they were ready to show the galaxy why.
"Alright. Let's move out. We'll get some coffee and chow down there about mid shift, and we'll be reviewing some more of the information from the probe while we wait. Anyone wants to give a hip pocket class on their expertise, let me know. I’m thinking I'm in the mood to learn more about demolitions if you all are!"