Captain Clark:
September 4, 2025
21:08 CST
The Autumn
Fifty miles off the coast of Texas and Mexico
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I sat in my office, working on my computer with a scowl etched deep into my face. The discussion with Dr. Zaraki about the C Drive had left me in a foul mood, and now, as if the universe itself were mocking me, the entire ship plunged into darkness.
“What the hell just happened?” I growled, pushing back from my desk.
Nathan, my helmsman, appeared in the doorway, his face illuminated by the harsh beam of a flashlight. The shadows accentuated the worry lines on his forehead, making him look older than he was.
“Captain, I’m not sure, but I’ve just lost helm control,” he reported, his voice tight with concern.
“Casey, what’s your status?” I barked into the comms, my frustration rising.
“Sir, navigations, communications, and weapons are offline as well,” Casey’s voice crackled through, tinged with a mixture of disbelief and irritation.
As I digested this, Dr. Zaraki stepped into my office, his own flashlight casting erratic beams across the room.
“Andrew, it’s the C Drive. It crashed the whole system,” he said, his tone apologetic but unyielding.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I snarled, barely able to contain my anger.
“Unfortunately, I’m not,” he replied, his face unreadable in the dim light.
I stormed out of my office, nearly colliding with Tiffany, my executive officer. “Sorry, Tiffany,” I muttered, already moving past her.
“Maybe you should watch where you’re going, jerk!” she snapped back, kneeling to retrieve the flashlight I had knocked from her hand.
I ignored the sting in her words, more focused on the crisis at hand. Navigating through the darkened corridors, I tripped down a flight of stairs, pried open three sets of pneumatic doors, and cursed as I smashed my shin into a corner. The pain shot through me like a lightning bolt, but I pushed it aside, hobbling toward the main computer lab two decks below the hangar.
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I finally grabbed an emergency flashlight from the wall—something I should have done from the start—and flicked it on, flooding the space ahead of me with pale light. As I pried open the lab door, I spotted a blue glow at the far end, where Nick was hunched over a keyboard.
“Andrew, the entire server system just crashed while I was down here working,” he said, his voice shaky with nerves.
“Yeah, Doc said the C Drive took the whole system down,” I replied, moving closer.
Nick looked at me, a mix of fear and uncertainty in his eyes. “Where exactly did he plug the drive in?”
“In the Cybernetics Lab two decks up, where it was supposed to be installed,” I said, my patience fraying.
“Maybe we should unplug it,” he suggested, though we both knew it was a long shot.
“No. Just step back and let me see what’s going on,” I ordered, taking over the keyboard.
Nick moved aside, and I scanned the screen. A blue screen with an old-style command prompt flickered before me, lines of code rolling across it.
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U.S.S. Autumn Operating System [Version 3.1001337 20120824]
U.S. Air Force Airship Combat Systems.
C:\USSAutumn\Administrator> Activate System | Y or N
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“Nick, what was the OS version we were running before the crash?” I asked, a sinking feeling forming in my gut.
“We installed a completely new OS after we went rogue twelve years ago. If we activate this, it’ll wipe out all the software upgrades we’ve made,” he warned.
“So, this is a full system wipe?” I inquired, the gravity of the situation settling in.
“I believe so,” he confirmed.
“If we uninstall the C Drive, could we revert everything back?” I asked, grasping at straws.
“The damage is done, sir. The C Drive has overwritten the master boot records. We can’t just undo this,” he explained, attempting to reboot another terminal.
“Shit… How long would it take to repair the master boot records?” I muttered, already dreading the answer.
“Days. It’d mean disassembling every server array to manually rewrite the code,” he replied, his frustration matching mine.
“That won’t do,” I growled under my breath.
I stared down at the keyboard, letting out a long, resigned sigh before pressing Y and then Enter. The screen flickered to black, then back to blue, a progress bar indicating the upload of the new system. Ninety minutes. We were going to be sitting ducks for ninety minutes.
As I glared at the screen, the Doctor strolled in, his demeanor annoyingly calm.
“You activated the program?” he asked, his tone neutral.
“Yes,” I snapped. “It would’ve been nice to know that plugging in the C Drive would crash the entire ship. We’re sitting ducks here.”
Just as the words left my mouth, the lights flickered back on, flooding the lab with artificial brightness.
“Well, at least we’ve got lights now,” the Doctor said, seemingly relieved.
“Yeah, great. But we’re still dead in the water for the next hour and a half,” I replied, the bitterness in my voice clear.
“Eh, we’ll be fine,” he shrugged, already heading for the door. “I’m going to check on Star.”
I didn’t bother replying, just glared at his back as he left the lab. Turning back to Nick, I gave my orders.
“Head to the bridge and fill the crew in on what’s happened. I’ll stay here and monitor the upload,” I said, my focus returning to the screen.
“Alright…” Nick mumbled, turning to leave, though I could sense his reluctance.
As he departed, I leaned back in the chair, my mind racing with contingency plans as the progress bar inched forward.