1808/AC02-02EVENTLOG

Ω CHAPTER TWO: BRINGER OF FIRE

"I ain't ever seen that much scrap. Not even in the shipbreakers! If you think on it to get that much shear destruction… it'd have to be a meteor shower, surely? That'd be grand and all but it feels off. KT said that they were in formation. Y'know, formation-flying formation. What fleet would be made up of ships like that? And what… Power, could destroy it? How do we destroy that… in a gunboat? This is fraggin’ stupid..." - French, Mechanic.

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“Hey Frenchie you feel that heat?” Jax was already sweating within a few moments of their jump. Their engineer raised an eyebrow, aware all too well of what was to come.

“Maybe. It ain’t too bad sparky calm down.” He took a glance at his console, hopin to make sense of the script it displayed, yet nothing came.

“It says ‘overheat warning’! Next time you want to burn us alive, fraggin’ let us know beforehand!” Jax spat as she stood from her console. Space now moved almost idly ahead of them as she stormed from the bridge. French raised his other eyebrow as the door hissed shut.

When he looked back ahead, his friend was waiting patiently for an explanation, albeit it was a patience running thin.

“We were slightly over margin, but she can take it. Phoenix will never let us down.” He powered down his station with a few well rehearsed commands. “Don’t know what she’s panicking about…”

“Well, she's in a mood.” KT grumbled, she flickered through various screens, absorbing the last bit of information she needed. The console bleeped as the Phoenix accepted her new heading.

“Isn't she always? Be fair though, you would be too if you knew you were allergic to cryo juice.” Skip muttered, powering down various systems. French looked up at him curiously, then it clicked.

“No way boss. Not over five days you can't be serious.” He shook his head viciously enough for his flatcap to come off. He got merely a nod as the lights flashed into the warm glow of the vessel’s low power systems.

“Yeah well we need the atmosphere in case we find survivors.” The man explained as he too rose to his feet. He worked his way through the power down sequence with practiced efficiency. "It’s busted enough as it is, wouldn’t want to have a LS failure… so... so far...” He trailed off, freezing in place for a moment.

“What if this is only a lucky BSR raid?” The larger man suggested, watching his friend carefully. The captain left without another word

“Then it's your job to blow them to hell and back.” KT answered with a frown, following her Skipper from the bridge, playing ignorance to the sudden change of mood. They passed through the ship’s airlock in a strained silence, into her compact living area. Music blared from Jax’s bunk, with enough bass to shake the rather lewd pictures around it.

“Jax turn that shiv off or I’m drifting the lot of it!” Skip bellowed as he sat down on a sealed supply crate. There was a beat. "Actually best you don't."

“Any clue what we’re dealing with?” KT asked as soon as her crewmate had, somewhat obliged to the order. Her expression dropped when he gave her a shrug. “How bad is this going to get?”

“Prokhyon’s security fleet is state of the art. I seriously doubt that this will get as far as the core system, it'll be torn apart before the second border. Regardless, we must not let it get that far.” He explained with his words firm. He flicked open a collapsible cup. “There's twelve Graephal class battlecruisers around Baris anyway on standby interception duty. If this gets too intense we can call them to clean it up. Do the paperwork later.”

“This has wiped out a dreadnought, and a flagship... I doubt twelve battlecruisers will do much.” KT's concern was nearing on overbearing, Skip leaned past her as their hulking mechanic crouched through the door frame.

“French, what you think of the Graephal?” He called. The man let out a long loud whistle.

“Man. Don’t get me thinking about them beauties, I won’t fit in me tube!” Skip gestured at him with his opened cup, getting a courteous, and dramatised nod from the man as he smiled giddily. “You seen the size of the main gun on them? Kid you not KT, one wiped out a city on Dagnir during your unrests.”

“Because that's something to be proud of.” She said with a frown. "Thanks for reminding me."

“Trust me, no fighting force will still have capital ships after the opening volley.” Skip gave her a smile as he poured two glasses of what seemed to be water, although the intense aroma said otherwise. He gagged briefly as he downed a large mouthful of it. He then realised she needed more convincing. "Besides, dreadnoughts are over the Roiler's limit. Ship gets to a certain size, it’s no longer effective against smaller vessels. Bigger don't always mean better."

"How often you hear that KT?" French smirked, earning a vicious glare from both his crewmates. It was a look that rapidly intensified as he playfully smacked KT’s shoulder hard enough to jolt her forward. "Fair though, if you're quick enough, even the Phoenix could take down a main bulk cruiser." he pointed at Skip, quickly having his hand pushed away. "He did it in the bloody Pegasus! Corvette won't it?"

"Barely a guncata mate, smaller than our girl." his captain said with a frown. Skip’s stare became vacant… Acts of violence flowed through every nerve. In war there were no victors...

French clicked his tongue, complete with a raise of the eyebrows that got a surprised snort from the Navigator. “Just gotta get 'em in the sensitive spot."

"The implication being this was a small hit and run?" KT blanched for a moment, she pointed towards their stern. "You couldn't weigh what was left in as scrap… it was a fraggin’ fleet we just saw torn apart!"

French shrugged. "Like I said, I could do the same with a hauler and a cargobay filled with Hydro missiles."

Skip leaned back in silence, silently sighing at his friend’s statement.

"Besides, real test will be when we drop twelve badass battlecruisers on them." French continued into his cup, he downed the whole lot in one go, glancing back into it with disappointment.

"We can go about the what if’s for days. The facts are someone dealt a devastating blow to the OSFC that they will not take too kindly to. This is either a ‘lucky pirate raid’, or the start of something far worse… absolute, and total war starts like this." Skip’s voice was deathly serious now. He felt everyone’s gaze. The fear filled the room. He tapped the table a few times. "However, I’d say the real scary question is this; did they plan this attack to such accuracy to pull off that fantasy of yours, or was it-" Skip gestured for KT to finish. She thought for a moment.

"Overwhelming force?" Everyone felt a shudder at that moment. "I know which I'd rather it be.”

Skip gave her a lasting look. “How would you fight something that can plan to wipe out a fleet without suffering a single casualty…”

He paused, as if the idea of what would come next was already haunting his waking mind. “Or how do you defeat something that can just blow away ships like dust in a stellar flare?”

“I’ll tell you how Skip.” French donned a cocky smirk. He spread his arms. “With the best damn ship in the fleet at your side.”

“Just let me ask one more question and can we move to something else?” KT seemed to almost shiver, the haunting presence had turned it’s gaze to her. “Have any of you seen something like this before?”

“Not me, and Jax is probably a no aswell…” He looked hopefully at Skip. It felt like an eternity before he shook his head...

It wasn't long after that before the air began to get too thin for comfort. The crew dispersed to the aft of the compartment, changing into cryo suits and prepping their corresponding tubes. Screens around the ship went dark as it too began to hibernate.

“Ok you ready?” Skip asked his gunner as he prepped the syringe. The normally fiery woman grimaced and nodded, she winced silently as the injection began, the sensation was always alien. The liquid rapidly dyed her veins black, spreading up her arm like a virus. Its effects passed slowly, her skin became flawless in its wake.

“Stop your complaining. Take one of these every sleep you’ll live longer than me.” He smirked, it was a moment before he got the intended reaction.

“Yeah keeps me feeling youthful and energetic.” She muttered through gritted teeth, she squirmed as the wave of black spread across her head. KT dove on the opportunity to poke at her less favourable crewmate.

“My my, Sergent! You haven't got an addiction to vitality boosters do you?” The look of venom made Skip and French both smile.

“You’ll be needing them in a minute!” She barked back, shrugging the sleeve of her cryosuit back down as her fingertips returned to their original colour.

“Calm it ladies.” Skip ordered firmly, he pointed at Jax’s pod. “In.”

“You can say that again.” French muttered under his breath. He patted the cool metal walls flanking his pod. “Please don't make me throw up this time sweetheart.”

Skip stifled a laugh chuckle again as he worked the system’s remote console, setting their awake time carefully. He felt a brief hand on his shoulder, followed by a quick and subtle peck on the cheek from his navigator.

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“Night Captain.” She whispered, continuing on to her own pod opposite his own. Skip shot her a quick wink. A countdown of lights lit up the compartment’s ceiling, illuminating all but the unending darkness of space beyond it’s windows in a dim blue light.

“Goodnight everyone.” Skip said aloud, earning a mutual cacophony of best wishes to one another, like on the verge of a long trip apart. Yet he alone was fully aware of how final that well-wish could be. Memories that easily clouded these moments every time.

With a united hiss the pods’ doors slid shut. The room beyond darkened into full hibernation, and turned truly silent. Within the space of a single thought it felt as though each one of them were truly alone out here on the verge of absolute abyss. With only the faint vibration of the Phoenix’s drives singing out like the beat of a heart. Together they connected their suits to the pod’s they waited in.

And with one last sensation of vertigo, their world faded into absolute nothing. One by one their senses became muted, and they were drawn into an unnatural sleep.

Skip watched the glass of each pod instantly cover with frost and condensation. His crewmates literally froze, suspended in time. They would never age at this point, not until the Phoenix called them awake again.

He heard the vents shut off, the computers entered a quiet standby. The room darkened slowly as the Phoenix too went to sleep. The only light came from the small arrangement of windows above him, the glow of their charge lit the compartment with waves of all colours. The glow of Prokhyon lit a far corner. They were bound in darkness, yet darkness failed to fill them.

His attention was drawn to his pod opening with a hiss. His gaze swept the room once more. Nothing seemed wrong, yet that anxiety was ever present. He wanted to wait. To see if their home was to fail them. But even days later he would still want to wait.

The battle of wills in his mind was won by reason. Fear would drive them all but it could not be allowed to define them.

Skip made his way to his pod, looking over the compartment for another ‘final time’. The step inside was hard, like there was resistance from within. Fear was beginning to rise. Images of the past haunted him like phantoms. He saw faces in the coloured darkness long passed. Spectres long gone visited, tricking his mind in the shadows.

His hands shook as he inserted the tubes into his cryosuit. He missed many times, adding more pinprick-like holes into it’s polymer skin. He was still inserting them as the timer ran out and the pod shut itself between him and his ghosts.

He caught sight of Jax in the pod opposite him. She looked peaceful. She looked safe.

At Least they would all remain that way...

–––‹›––––––‹»

Launchday.

Skip awoke to Hyades breaking over the horizon. It shone brightly past the distant mountains, illuminating Colony Alpha in an orange hue. It painted the dawn picture across the canvas of crisp white and black buildings rising from the sunburned steppes atop an ancient peninsula. The mountains beyond rose to well beyond the thin, red atmosphere. The highest of them all rose as a single pinnacle of ice, one that scattered the light it caught into a beautiful kaleidoscope of soft colours that lit the landscape for hundreds of miles. Dust devils swirled gently over the scorched, arid plains, their sprays scattering against the colony’s constructs causing nothing more than a gentle rustle that begged earth-walkers to stay.

But that same rustle drove Spacers to the stars.

Skip took it all in for a moment, climbing from his bed to the slit-small window. He could see clearly why many thought it was beautiful. Yet it was never enough.

His eyes drifted however to the large gantries rising high above, and the various ships suspended from them. They rested idly for their next duties or missions.

It was almost perfect timing to see one in particular be released from the hangers below. She rose on a large crane. It’s cables and gantries twisted her triangular form upwards towards the sky that she so desperately wanted to be a part of. Her huge engines pointed silently at the earth, awaiting with a contained fury just wanted to be unleashed. Her ascent was unnaturally slow for her ever rapid pace, but it let her hull gleam under the ever changing colours. She was always beautiful. But today on her date with destiny, The Phoenix had made herself look stunning.

When she settled in her launch position with an inaudible clunk, it was the announcement to her four companions across the colony. They were united over the distance looking upon their home. The day had come once again.

He took one last glance at the bed, whereupon his wife still slept soundly. He didn’t feel any attraction nor will to stay. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had. This world was never his, and as much as they both wished it be; she could never replace what was now long lost, as much as they had tried.

He padded silently to their quaint living quarters, flicking a control panel as he went. The dawn landscape flooded in from under the silently rolling shutters, illuminating the compact room.

Skip flopped down into a chair and starred in silence outside once again. His mind slowly broke free of the night haze. This sight of the barren landscape beyond was no longer beautiful. His world was so much more...

He tapped a few buttons on a small control panel. “Rollback.” He instructed, pulling a cigar from its humidifier. “Begin.”

“OSFC Home Fleet Command, to the crew of SX05A Phoenix. Prokhyon outer system 'Frontier' DSPG patrol awarded. Patrol period: Five Years. Briefing follows in five seconds.” Skip ran a hand down his face.

“Five years…” He groaned, keeping his head in his hand. He took several long drags on his cigar. “I’m gonna get a bloody earful.”

“Patrol duties are to be performed aboard the SX05A Gunboat Designation ‘Phoenix’. Crew are to look for signs of insurgency and perform analysis and interception duties upon all identified contacts. Backup will be provided by Battlegroup Vertigo in the event of excessive hostilities. Note from OSFC Home Fleet Command: Black Sun Rising vessels detected in the region, homebase estimated to be within debris field ‘Widow’s Run’, disperse and exterminate all opposition with extreme prejudice. No surrenders accepted.”

Skip’s fingers danced across a keypad beside him. With a green flash the desk’s inset display retracted, displaying his well kept handcannon and other effects with pride. He drew the weapon instinctively, turning it and spinning it in his hands while his mind wandered far. Eventually it ended up cradled in his hands. It’s polished and brushed facets spoke of stories laced in blood. Scratches and scrapes had been preserved upon its surface as scars of once .glorious memories. His thumb rested on a large dent near it’s trigger. It was the one place that held any rust.

The pain it had caused, never deserved to be cleaned away...

“No... Surrenders… Accepted…” He repeated, running his fingers over the blades of two, wickedly sharp, daggers. The words had become more and more common in briefings. He sighed. The rank slides on his jacket said ‘Captain’, but they should’ve just said ‘executioner’.

He debated for a moment, almost needlessly, as to whether he should accept the mission or not. It was a fruitless endeavour really. There was no moral high ground in their world. The call to fly outweighed everything.

Skip decided to do his usual. He holstered his sidearm, and inserted the blades into their hidden sheaths. His holdalls were quickly and silently packed. Truth is nearly everything was waiting for him anyway, so in actuality he brought with him very little. Mostly he brought amenities his wife thought he would need, ones that in the ensuing five years would never be unpacked. The Phoenix was his first home. It had everything he wanted.

Skip was in the hallway and his wife still slept, even after a kiss goodbye and the clunk of the heavy door behind him she still slept. She would wake up and he’d be gone, something he was sure she was glad about. He made an effort to inhale the dry air one final time, letting the smell of burnt rocket-motor fill him. Shouldering his pack he made way for the dockyard, passing unwitnessed through the busy streets and almost arena-esque main squares. He stepped aside the planet dwellers whenever needed. The last thing he wanted was to infringe caste laws today.

“We Guard Your Worlds!”

He caught glimpses of the displays above the colony’s never ending commotion. The OSFC’s propaganda was never ending, and it filled him with spite. It’s presence was never fading. The spacer’s eyes caught sight of his fellow brethren, the undesirables made to protect these worlds. The guardians walked unseen, and unnoticed. He even caught sight of a few scrubbers. They were noticed, for one had to see them to spit on them. The upper echelons he once belonged to all bustled about their business. Throughout the castes, the colony was permanently restless.

“Did you say goodbye this time?” Skip heard the all too familiar voice for the first time in six months. He looked back to see her face ever covered by her short blond hair. KT, like him, always tried to remain unseen when off ship. Hers however was more out of shame than class. Her spacer’s uniform was hidden beneath heavy clothing, her stance was closed, her shoulders sagged. There was no pride there. Many planetside considered her closer to a scrubber than a Spacer.

“No.” He said disappointed, crossing the busy street with his crewmate. The base of the huge launch complex loomed ahead, it’s gantries put all into shadow. “Don't ever say goodbye, says you're not coming home.”

“You don't say anything Captain, we spoke about this.” She reached out for him, stopping him in his tracks. She slipped her hand down to his, she should’ve foreseen him removing the glove containing it. The sensation of contact was electrifying and welcoming. It was one she still believed she was unworthy of.

“Yeah, in between sessions.” She cringed, and couldn't help but think he sounded like Jax. The look KT gave him simply told him to be serious.

“You really should, Captain.” She insisted. When Skip remained silent she sighed. Seeing no alternative, KT tugged Skip’s bags from him, shouldering one with ease before prising away the last one. He caught a fire in her eye briefly, before she hastily closed the distance, placing a quick peck on his lips.

“I’ll get her fired up.” She said with a smile. He gave her a curt nod. She departed silently, with nearly a bound in her step. With each one, she was closer to the stars above. His desire to walk the stars could never come close to hers...

It would make sense she was here, in fact it made sense that they all were. He looked across to a nearby supply depot, catching Jax in the act of securing a playmate before liftoff. Skip noted she was at least somewhat successful, and he felt a smattering of pride for her and sincere apologies for the poor Expeditionary officer being dragged to the barracks like prey drawn into a predator's den.

“One day they'll fall off.” Skip said out loud. At first it seemed he said it to himself, until the mechanic lumbered up beside him.

“What will?” French asked with a curious look. Skip nodded in the direction of their crewmate.

“Her balls....” He smirked, French followed his gesture. “Willingly shagging the Expeds, she must have more than both of us.”

"Y'never know boss, Have some faith for the poor girl! This could be the one she settles down with and has half a dozen little Jaxes…" the two officers looked at each other in silence for a moment.

"Fat fraggin’ chance." They said in unison, quickly followed by more belts of laughter. Skip clasped the open hand coming his way with his own. The two gave each other a firm handshake, complete with a smack on the shoulder and the tug of a dashed hug. “Good to see you mate.”

“And you Skip.” His old friend smiled, he noticed the man’s lack of bags and became ever so slightly excited. “Travellin’ light arent ye?” He continued almost awkwardly, he fumbled for the correct words. His intentions became clear soon enough. “You already seen our lady? How is she?”

“No not yet. She’s already on gantry though.” Skip shrugged, he pointed at the towers high above them. “KT's would be up there by now. She’ll call down if they’ve messed up again.”

French’s eyes went up the tower of metal. Eventually he caught sight of their home. Her engines steamed, desperately awaiting their moment. He smiled. “Ill be damned she is and all. Hello gorgeous!” ...and waved.

“Should’a seen her this morning mate, she was worth a million.” Skip’s eyes too fell upon the waiting Phoenix.

“Don’t insult her! She always is! Damn scrubbers better not’ve put them fraggin’ baffles back on. Another week of atmo will give me a rash.” French growled at the thought of lesser men breaking his ship. He backtracked after a moment and snorted in amusement. “Hold on. KT is already up there?”

Skip nodded, finally looking away from his fair lady. “Yeap.”

“And I take it she has your shiv?”

“Yeap.” Skip sighed, nodding again.

“Is she trying to save your marriage again?” French asked, far from delicately.

“Yeah.” Skip muttered with a pang of regret. “So much for oaths.”