“What the fuck just happened?!” One of the bridge crew roared, though it was hard to discern if they were male or female. The light had just about faded by then, but most of them had already discerned that it came from the moon. Why or how, they didn’t know and they weren’t about to try and figure it out yet. Most of them were fine, the Lord Count included, merely nursing extreme migraines and feeling a profound sense of loss. Like they were out of it for much longer than they thought they were. No. Wait… Why did they even think they had lost consciousness? It was only a flash of light, wasn’t it instantaneous?
"Captain! We had 90,000 breach attempts into our comms! All blocked!” The confusion and dread brought on by that status report was exacerbated when they finally took full account of their surroundings. At least a dozen men and women were slumped over against their terminals or lying on the floor, one of the Count’s soldiers, Jing, was among them.
“Check him!” The Count was about to order the others, when Jing and the other unconscious people sprang up to their feet and attacked the person nearest to them with whatever they had in hand. Most of them had pens or broken glasses, but Jing had a plasma pistol. It hummed for a half-second, before tearing right through another soldier and then two crewmen before the projectile lost momentum and splattered upon the consoles.
“What the f-!” The screams disoriented everyone, as none of them had recovered properly yet. But even with hazy vision, there was no obscuring the sight of men and women repeatedly stabbing those that could barely react. Jing fired another shot, killing two more crewmen before another soldier shot him through the gut. Three others were eventually subdued, but the rest were killed. Not like the Count’s men had any problem with killing Federation soldiers. But it was a scene of hell not seen since the war. The Captain’s roars for order had fallen on deaf ears, and the images on the screens weren’t good either. 8 of the ships were still experiencing combat, while the rest were either digital avatars or had just finished subduing their former companions.
“Close all blinds and outside camera feeds, now!” The Captain roared and those that could do so, did as ordered. During this, however, the Count and the rest of his men made their way to Jing, who’s wrists were cuffed behind his back. Those he shot were unfortunately dead but he was still alive, even with a melted spine.
“Why did you do this?” The Count asked him. Surprisingly, he seemed lucid, able to stare up at his Lord with an angry, and yet also delighted look on his face.
“Do not make use of the Count’s image, fake.” He said with a bloody cough and a smile that only deepened. “You copies think you can trick me, but you can’t. None of you can trick anybody. It’s too obvious. The real Count and the Major would slaughter all of you. I’ll be the only one any of you will ever be able to kill.”
“How do you know that we are fakes?” One of them asked.
“Why the hell would I tell you that?” Jing asked back with a blatant look of mockery.
“The Dahlian Bull, Tramples All!” He roared before finally biting his own tongue off, dooming himself to death from blood loss and ensuring that they could get no more information from him.
It was the ultimate loyalty. But never once did the clarity and strength in his gaze waver. The remaining four soldiers glanced at one another, then at their Lord Count. Something had clearly gone wrong, and the bridge crew was in the same kind of, if not worse disarray. Then, the Lord Count turned to the Captain, just as the blinds finally came down fully. There were even fewer active screens on the walls of Serenity's bridge.
“Captain! Heavy Cruiser Serana Astil and Destroyer Gerize just confirmed that the light came from the moon! Cameras and viewports facing away from the light source are safe!”
“Alright, transmit that information to everyone else in the fleet, share map data as well, just in case their navs are damaged.”
“Yes sir!”
“Captain! Updating screens now!”
Three LCD screens came back to life. The first one displayed a camera feed from the Federation Carrier “Ceres Parlton'', which showed the 28 kilometer-long Union Dreadnought “Alisei” ramming against Serenity’s northern hemisphere with its auxiliary engines. The sheer mass difference and slow speeds were the only reason the damage wasn’t notable yet. So, they promptly tried making contact. But even after repeated tries, they still haven't received any response. Not even an SOS.
Then came the worrying news that the Dreadnought was skidding lengthwise across Serenity's surface which meant that the longer they took to regain their own engine controls, the higher the risk of catastrophic failure in the Alisei's 'moon-breaker' cannon. The flaw in its upscaled-gun design had been well exploited during the war by much smaller vessels. But now, from point-blank? Some even started asking if they should request one of the ships to board it.
Beside that screen, was a feed from one of the hallway cameras and now that they were out of hyperspeed, they could see just how much of the western hemisphere they actually lost. So many cameras displayed the breathtaking image of a sea of stars, but the sobering extent of the loss of life was only as harrowing as the fact that there was an unknown vessel just… pressed against Serenity’s exposed wound.
Although they couldn’t see much past its rear where the unknown ship’s engines were, it must’ve been roughly ten kilometers in length. But the design was ancient, at least several centuries old. It still had wings, had multiple engines pointed the same direction, and smooth, rounded edges - design features from a time before large space stations were normalized and ships had to come and go from a planet’s surface. Which meant that it was an example of somehow still functional, extremely early Dominion tech.
The third screen was a comprehensive rundown of the vessel's system statuses. None of it looked promising, though. So many factors and situations that none of them could’ve possibly prepared for had compounded into their current reality.
All of this meant that they had only one course of action was left available.
“Captain, we’re abandoning ship. I expect you not to stop us.” The Count declared with a cold yet booming voice.
“Of course, not.” He answered before turning to one of the comms officers, urging her to vacate her post for the man. “But, will you be -”
“I am only interested in Imperial lives, Captain. You should coordinate your own operations. It will be much safer that way.” The Count was already making his way to the comms terminal when he cut him off. His selfish words were spoken with confidence, his back straight, while his voice and tone was relaxed, almost aloof in fact. Even though some of the bridge crew protested, they knew he was right. It had only been a cycle, since a hundred-cycles of war ended. How could anyone expect the passengers to remain civil when being forced near one another and having to potentially fight over limited seats?
“Understood, Lord Count. Best of luck to us al-”
“Everyone, brace!”
----------------------------------------
"A third of the ship is gone, Serenity is unresponsive and there's no way to contact the bridge or anyone outside. We don't even know if we've stopped moving, yet." The acting Commander, formerly the head of Internal Security was desperately trying to think of a solution.
Standing in a private room of the Kyrsana Opera House, overlooking the gathered evacuees down below in B Deck's central plaza, wasn't helping ease the pressure either. There were already at least 30,000 people here. But many more were still coming in, and this wasn't even a tenth of the passengers on this deck alone. Accompanying in the private restaurant booth that had been turned into their Base of operations, were the remaining Engineering personnel and the head of Internal logistics. All of whom were bickering with each other on what to do. The sad thing was, these remaining engineers were the ones deemed incapable of helping with the earlier fuel decoupling attempt, and the head of logistics required Serenity to deal with the actual transport and cataloging.
But they were here because there was no one else that she could call upon. Since most of the high-ranking crew were either in or near the bridge when the area was sealed. So many things had gone horribly wrong, in such a short time. Even now, she was struggling to process it all. They made her Commander, but the Commander still required orders from the Captain. Nor did she possess real experience to act as one. It was only because she was next in line after the First Mate who was with the Captain.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
"... damn it all…" She cursed, and yet, when she glanced at her troops, at the civilians, and even at the bickering group - she pulled out whatever strength she had left in her exhausted body and slammed her fist against the nearest dining table. "You're engineers, aren't you?! Half of you, find a way to pry those blinds open. Just a little bit is enough so that we can confirm our situation. The rest of you, gather any civilians that have a relevant background and try to get back into the bridge. There's plenty of suits and helmets in the Armory."
"Y-yes, Commander!" The most senior of the group answered. Then, she turned to the Head of Logistics.
"You, I want you and your people to work together with the civilians. Gather any useful supplies. Not just food and water, but beddings and even toys. I need the civilians calm, so supervise those that volunteer. Make sure that the three factions are separated, and they have to get the same things at the same time. Take into account how many of them there are, too. I do not want another war here."
"O-of course. But that'll slow everythi-"
"I know! Figure something out. Now get to it! Erik, lead the way for the engineers. Adam, stick with the Logistics team, along with a squad, just in case. The bridge problem will sort itself out, right now, we just need to save as many people as we can!" The two men that had been accompanying her, quickly nodded and went off with the others, leaving the woman by herself in the brightly lit room. She then fell onto a chair and basked in the peace and quiet, for she knew that it'd be the only respite she'd have for a very long time. And as if to prove her right, there was a knock on the door.
"Private First Class Corteza, reporting."
"Come in." And so, she did, with her first aid kit still in one hand. She then saluted. But the Commander just waved it away. "Drop the formalities, we don't have time for that. I need you to tend the other wounded. More just came in."
"Understood." Corteza nodded, before she pulled a palm-sized bottle from her pocket and placed it on the table.
"An energy drink?"
"We all need one Commander. I've had three myself."
"So that's why you're so perky. Thank you.” She opened the bottle then downed the entire thing with a single gulp. “Haah… Now get back to work. A lot of people need help down there." She paused, and the grinned wryly. “Also… you fixed your patients up a bit too well, they immediately got into a fight. And… I got a bit carried away. Make sure to come back for them.”
"Yes, Commander!"
[... This is a state of emergency. But please, remain calm. All survivors please evacuate to B deck’s Central Square, as soon as you are able. Avoid using elevators that have sustained visible damage and bring whatever supplies you can with you. If you cannot move, stay where you are and use anything to guide rescuers towards you. Once you arrive, take your critically wounded to the main plaza and make your way to your respective, designated evac building. These will be marked by either your flag, or your national colors. Do not interact with those from other factions, unless absolutely necessary… This is a state of emergency-]
There were many words that could be used to describe the scene within the main square of B Deck's northern hemisphere. But the most appropriate was "gruesome". While constant streams of survivors managed to make their way here from every corner of the vessel, many more had to be carried on stretchers before being placed with the rest of the critically wounded in the central park.
They ran out of beds 3 hours ago, sheets an hour after that. The once comfy green grass was now streaked and caked with blood that seeped from both the living and the dead. The stench of death was strong. But the cries of children and the yells of grown men calling for order, did their best to drown out the other senses. It helped doctors, nurses, medics like Private Corteza, medical students, and volunteers avoid the reality around her, even just by a little bit.
Complaining about the noise took her mind off the fact that she was currently walking over corpses that nobody had the time or energy to move, making sure that she didn't slip over them. Men, women and children from every stellar faction, human or vatgrown - to think that this park was the only place where everyone could be gathered peacefully.
But even that fragile ‘peace’ would be shattered. Its end was marked when an ear-splitting crash or an explosion came from high above. Deck A had suddenly caved in on them. The four 700 meter-tall towers around the square - actually doubling structural pillars - immediately bent, creaking and crying under a force beyond that which they could handle together.
However, Serenity’s construction was both a boon and a curse. While many succumbed to the injuries that resulted from being slammed against something or from being flung away by the impact, her structural integrity ensured that no external force could immediately puncture its shell and that the towers could not be malformed or damaged past a certain point. This essentially trapped everyone that was inside the towers. Meanwhile, screams and cries echoed through Deck B, now dark and without power, as much of it was automatically cut off to avoid electrical fires. And, drowning it all out, was the screech of warping polysteel and crumbling of concrete, which served as a constant reminder of death.
It was chaos… No. There was once a word used to describe a scene like this. And even though largely forgotten, it could never disappear from the collective consciousness. This was hellish. And as the sounds of this pitch-black hell gave way to clattering and chittering across the ceiling and tower’s surface - everyone knew that its heralds had arrived. Men, women and children screamed in grueling agony. Lost children cried - asking for their parents, only to be silenced with disgusting squelches. Those farther away panicked and ran in every direction, with many running into each other, before getting trampled when they were too slow to get back up.
Some reached out for others, grabbing and tripping them, causing only more to fall down as they scrambled through whichever path they found themselves in. Not a single one sought shelter in the buildings and those already inside risked two or three storey drops in a desperate bid to escape - crushing those below them. Then came deafening gun shots from amongst the crowd - lighting their surroundings for but a split second. Some were part of the crew, but most were regular citizens. Though they were aiming at whatever was chasing them, a lot more shots landed on the people trying to catch up to them. Sky blue, bright red and dazzling yellow, charged shots and tracer bullets flew through the air and landed with a squelch, a sizzle or a ping.
Many screamed for them to stop. But they fell on deaf ears, before being silenced themselves. It was only when they ran out of bullets or the chittering got too close that the gunmen fled as well. Yet now it was them, who were at the back - forced to shove against those ahead of them that were stuck. Rubble had fallen across the highway and now they had to either climb over it, or squeeze through the spaces between. A few resorted to smashing through windows in their attempts to flee, only to get hurt or succeed and get trampled against the shattered pieces by those behind them. There were other ways to leave the square, but without any light, they did not know where those were, and those that did, did not tell many others. Much less called for them.
And so, more than five thousand people became sitting ducks on the streets. Those armed, emptied nearly round that they could at whatever was approaching them - next to fall. But those brief instants of light had exposed their attackers, just as they were devoured. That’s right, devoured. Those in the rear finally saw it, clear as day; the sight of a young man's lower leg being torn off, before several creatures with dark, reflective surface dragged him screaming into the blackness. So, so many of them. Insects as big as a dog and hidden in the darkness, were crawling on top of each other, trying to get at them first.
Just like how they were trying to get away. The stampede regained momentum as a new wave of fear and adrenaline kicked in. Yet it was too late. Only four hundred or so managed to get past the rubble. One even opened fire on the crowd, just so they could advance. However, this wasn’t unique to their group. Many more ended up in the same predicament. But even as the last cry echoed from the square, the buildings would not be silenced yet.
Of the 563,219 passengers and crew that Serenity departed with, only 312,078 responsive life signals remained after the fuel cell detonation. All medical personnel were called to action and an SOS signal was immediately sent out.
Now there were 1,606,145 life signals on board.
Finally the medical alerts turned off and the SOS calls fell silent.
Disaster averted.