Ground Zero. Petty Officer First Class Leo Fisher happened to be on hull watch, milling about as he watched out for enemy craft, asteroids, and anything else dangerous to the ship and fleet during travel. The announcement came across the radio that a nebula charge was building, and his blood started to chill. There’s not much anyone in the fleet can do at all about a nebula bolt. They happen. They have the potential energy of a star, meaning that, if the charge builds, it WILL discharge eventually.
A person walking around the hull of the ship in an armored space suit with metal and electronic equipment is especially helpless to do anything about the charge. Additionally, their only real hope for protecting themselves is to hit the deck, because they don’t want to be the “tallest” point relative to whatever the bolt is going to discharge to.
Naturally, the second the radio announcement was made -which includes ‘GO PRONE!’-, Fisher was prone on the hull of the ship, waiting to die.
The flash felt like it was right in front of his face, with how bright it was and how body-shaking the rumble was through the hull. He flinched, and possibly soiled himself. But, that’s a problem for when he needs to clean out his suit.
Fisher climbs to his feet and looks around. Debris is floating away from the ship ahead of him, and he walks as quickly as he can go. The atmosphere was instantly lost in the room that ruptured, and a few bodies float into the void too quickly for him to try to save. It makes him feel sad, but he has a job to do.
Fisher makes it to the rupture, which was much further ahead of him than he thought. Usually, everyone assumes the turrets would be the points of discharge for a nebula bolt. However, this one seems to have been a simple peak in the hull at the centerline. He looks around. As far as he can tell, the bolt discharged to the Gaia, though their impact was “lucky”, it seems to have hit one of the engines. The engine is now clogged with metal electroplated by the bolt, but they likely didn’t lose any crew or civilians.
Fisher calls across his radio, “Watch Commander, Watch Fourteen. Hull rupture centerline, dorsal deck. Uh, between Turrets Three and Four. Rupture size approximately twenty feet by fifty feet. No fires external.”
“Affirmative Watch Fourteen. Beware of residual charge and step potential.”
“Affirmative Watch Commander.”
Fisher looks closer inside. The space ruptured looks to be one of the galleys, where the meals are cooked. It should have been isolated from the main mess deck itself, but he decides to investigate to be sure. Fisher carefully climbs down through the hole, dropping to the deck using the artificial gravity. He looks around. It’s a spooky feeling, seeing the galley empty, but with equipment running, as if everyone just picked up and left.
He again feels sad for the lives lost, but he needs to focus for now. He searches the area.
He nearly jumps when he discovers a human form clutching desperately to one of the cooking benches. But, his protective instincts kick back in. It’s only been a minute or so. He’s not an expert, but he knows it might be possible. Fisher reports as he extracts the young woman from her safety anchor, “Watch Commander, Watch Fourteen! Galley Oh-One hit! Possible survivor! Need extraction!”
As he’s carefully dragging the nearly-frozen body, he spots a second person. He quickly stages the girl near the door, and then jogs quickly to the other person. This person’s wrist is frosty with frozen blood, where it appears they were only saved by their wrist getting caught between the stove and cutting bench. Fisher reports, “Second possible survivor! Need airlock extraction!”
“Affirmative, Fourteen. Stage at main entrance door. Hallway being cleared.”
“Hurry, Boss! They’re nearly frozen!”
“Formality on comms, Fourteen.”
Fisher sighs. He doesn’t respond. The Watch Commander -who is actually an enlisted position- is obviously former navy. People are dying, and they’re worried about radio formality.
The Marine carries the older man -possibly the chef- to the door next to the woman. It takes another minute or so, but the Watch Commander replies, “Clear!”
“Opening main door to Galley two!”
Fisher quickly opens the door, heaving both bodies through. No one’s waiting for him on the other side in the mess deck hallway, but he’s not surprised. He closes the door and dogs it down. He then reports, “Sealed in! Pressurize me!”
“Pressurizing. Standby.”
Fisher moves the woman aft, so that she’s that much closer to the medical bay. He knows the odds of survival are slim, but it’s worth a try.
Soon, the room is fully pressurized, and his regulator switches over. The Watch Commander reports, “Fourteen, medical teams standing by in port hallway. Ready to recieve.”
He sighs. Of course they’re on the opposite side. He replies, “Affirmative Watch Commander. Moving bodies to door. Clear to enter.”
“Medical teams entering.”
Fisher turns the two over to the medical corpsmen that enter. They quickly whisk them aft, but Fisher would swear he’s hallucinating when he hears, “Get them to the hangar! Triage in the main hangar!”
That strikes him as odd, given that there shouldn’t be that many injuries, should there? Needless to say, the Watch Commander says, “Fourteen, standby to re-enter galley two. Check clear.”
“Standing by to re-enter galley two.”
The hallway is depressurized, and Fisher re-enters the galley. He doesn’t find any more people, and a basic scan reveals no fires or lower ruptures.
The shoring team is already at the rupture location, sliding plating and welding equipment into place to ready for repair. Fisher hand signals for them to proceed, and they hand signal ‘ok’ back to him. Fisher reports the lack of further damage or danger to his watch commander, and they cycle him back out of the galley to make his way back out to the hull to continue watch.
Fisher exits an airlock to the hull near ‘Iron Mary’, the tank chained to the hull of the Polonia. The old war machine was damaged in the battle with the Zarakyssns, but undoubtedly saw a fair share of service and deserves a rest. He pats the tank’s armor, remembering the scene of an actual tank fighting in a space battle. He signed up for the Marines to be a ground soldier, so he understands Iron Mary’s strange place of battle. But, like Mary, Fisher has never shied away from his duties in space.
He, of course, is not fearless, though. Many marines questioned whether it would have been better to die on Earth than to be where they are now. The Zarakyssns share features of some of the most horrifying creatures on Earth, and they arrived and attacked without any real warning. And, according to the Grodrrns, the Zarakyssns eat their captives.
So, when golden flickers appear out in space depositing the vessels of the most terrifying thing Fisher has ever faced, he’s speechless for a moment. He stammers, trying to form words.
There isn’t one or two of the big horde ships.
There aren’t ten.
There aren’t fifty.
There are hundreds of the horde ships; the huge battleships the Zarakyssns used.
Fisher loses his voice near instantly, all but whispering hoarsely into his radio, “E-Enemy contact… P-P-P-Port side…”
“Watchstation, say again with watch and report.”
Fisher swallows hard. The fleet is scattered. They all have jump technology, but they haven’t tried the methods for tricking the interdiction. And, with this many capital ships, would it even work?
“W-Watch Commander, Watch Fourteen. E-E-Enemy Contact, port side.”
There’s a pause, before a voice comes back, “Holy mother of God…”
Grip your rifle, boy. This ain’t the Cub Scouts! We are Marines!
Grey’s voice hasn’t aged a day, and he helped Fisher grow a thick skin back then. Grey’s belief has almost always been that, as long as you can get your hands around your rifle, you can survive. The enemy doesn’t care about feelings, offense, rudeness, manners, diplomacy, or kindness. If they want you dead, you will be dead.
Fisher didn’t have much combat experience before the flight from Earth, but he had a little, and there were moments when terror gripped him the same as anyone else.
Fisher nervously grips his rifle, bracing the stock to his shoulder. It’s insignificant to the ship-to-ship combat that’s about to occur, but it gives him enough sense of himself to focus. He swallows hard again, adding as confidently as he can, “Recommend hull evacuation.”
“ALL HULL WATCH AND SHORING TEAMS! BELOW DECKS NOW!”
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Fisher sighs. He looks around. The other hull watches are nearly-sprinting to their nearest airlocks. The Shoring team drops what they were doing, leaving behind the welding torch and plates. If they’re lucky, it’ll be completely unmoved if they are able to jump right away without any evasive movements.
While he’s terrified, Fisher is part of Alpha Team, and with that comes a sort of numbness to the terror, or the ability to off-put it. He has subconsciously taken it upon himself to make sure everyone else is evacuating. He’ll live happily ever after never seeing another Zarakyssn again, but he swore to protect, so he’ll protect. It’s who he’s always been.
Of course, being below decks doesn’t give him any comfort. If they can’t escape the Zarakyssn ships, then it’s only a matter of time. Often as a marine, his life is in the hands of someone else steering, and all he can do is find a solid spot to sit and pray.
Fisher sits down out of the way just inside the airlock, closing his eyes. His rifle is his only amount of comfort right now.
***
Admiral Long grips her shoulder cross, staring in horror at the fleet that assembled at their flank. There are as many capital ships as there were small ships in the last battle. It puts into scope how truly big the Zarakyssn horde actually is, and this is likely even still an insignificant percentage of their military. After everything, seemingly inescapable doom has arrived, intent on not being foiled again.
The bridge is quiet. No one dares speak, for fear of giving breath of reality to the moment.
It’s always surprising how fragile hope is. It is blind and naive any other time, but when it’s needed most, it often evaporates. Even the most hopeful can struggle to stay hopeful. Everyone has a limit, and Long has been struggling for a while.
Someone picks up a sound powered phone, and the voice summoning the bridge booms even over the phone.
The young officer recoils in surprise, and murmurs, “Grodrrn, Admiral.”
Long jogs to the phone, quickly taking it.
“Tell all ships to jump to following coordinates, Admiral!”
Given the clarity of speech, and the softer voice, it’s easily Khla. The female pilot spits out numbers quickly, and Long says, “Wait wait wait! Craw? We’re too far apart.”
“Worry later! Yarjen say jump now! Please!”
“One second.”
Long activates the fleet communication, looking at the Zarak fleet. They seem to be idle for the moment, which is curious. Long announces, “All hands, silence on the bridges. This is Admiral Long. Jump to the following coordinates immediately. Regroup is not an option. Coordinates coming:” She holds the sound powered phone to the microphone, telling Khla, “Craw, you’re on fleet comm. Go. Loud and clear.”
Khla states the coordinates carefully, and seconds after the coordinates are complete, the Argonaut flashes white. It vanishes, and the ship is gone. Successful jump!
Long’s heart races, filling with hope again. Could the Zarakyssns have a jump delay? Or are they out of range? Why are they hesitating, then?
Sure enough, once the Argonaut jumped, the Zarak ships moved. They must be out of range. Tiny ships are racing toward them, as the capital ships turn.
The Gaia jumps next, vanishing successfully. Long says to her jump crew, “Hold just a moment.”
The Andromeda vanishes, and Long looks at the Providence, where the Honolulu is still docked. Murdock’s voice comes across the radio, “Jump, Supernova!”
“We’re good! Jump together! Ready!”
“Go!” She nods at her crew, and they hit the button.
The white bubble forms, and Long finds herself holding her breath. Only seconds will tell.
One second passes. She curls her hands, bracing herself emotionally. Each second feels like an eternity.
Two seconds. The bubble is still intact. It’s impossible to know if they’re actually moving once the bubble forms, though. It’s honestly humorous under normal circumstances, thinking about the fact that if the bubble never moved for weeks of being formed, they could end up in the exact spot they were trying to leave without knowing it for weeks.
That’s unlikely, and precisely why the design of the jump system is as it is, but…
Three seconds. A single tear escapes Long’s eye. The stress and fear are gripping her, but her faith will not falter. Her crew acted as ordered, her most experienced workers are on every job needing done, from Jardzen Dzor making recommendations, to an alien combat medic performing triage, to soldiers readying to defend the ship. All she can do right now is command. Together is how they’ll survive.
Four seconds. Five seconds. Six seconds. Each moment is painfully long, but gives more and more hope as they tick by.
Ten seconds pass. It’s fair to say they’ve escaped, but Long feels even better at twenty seconds, and finally exhales at thirty. A wave of relief seems to fill the bridge. But, her navigator asks, “Admiral, how will we regroup with the ships?”
“I’m guessing we’ll be pinging our own ships for a change and regroup that way. The Grodrrns make fleet jumps differently than us.
The navigator nods, and Long asks over the sound powered phone, “Craw, are you there?”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“Do we have a plan for regrouping our fleet?”
“This jump will be about a week, Admiral. Our ships will likely drift by an astro-unit or so, but they’ll be easy to ping down. We’ll micro jump together and join up, jumping once more.”
Long sighs. “Alright, sounds good. You’re confident this will work?”
“If Zarak Queen can be hidden, yes. We’ll want to keep the pings as small as possible, though. Zarak jump technology is similar to Grodurn, but faster. Less safe, though. Can collide with solid objects.”
“What location did you jump us to?”
There’s a pause. Khla admits softly, “Sherrynn Space, Admiral. Zarakyssns will approach with caution as much as we should. Sherrynns not friendly. Especially when they detect Gravionic pulse.”
Long chuckles at the absurdity. “So, that’s our plan. Land near hungry wolves in hopes the tigers stay away.”
“It is predictable outcome. Anywhere else likely to be too close to Zarak responding fleets.”
“I understand. Just funny. Alright, thank you Craw. We’ll debrief in an hour or so when we know everything is okay.”
***
Kenzie’s eyes flutter open. The last thing she actually remembers, she was retrieving some trays of food for the ward room. Now, she’s lying on her back in… the hangar bay?
Her body is sore and she feels extremely weak. Her throat is burning dry, and her fingers and toes feel numb.
When she looks around, she finds a humongous Zarakyssn hovering over her. It’s wearing a golden cloak and a strange, golden head dress. Panic floods into her, and she whimpers, trying to shift away.
The Zarakyssn looks at her, and it chatters in its insectoid language, reaching for her.
Kenzie whimpers, trying in futility to swing her hands in defense.
The insect pets her head, making soft clicking and chirping noises. It’s an extremely strange feeling.
Chief Grey’s voice gruffly says from nearby, “Welcome back to the land of the living, lucky lady.”
She looks, and the Chief is sitting on the deck with a crate at his back, and a crutch leaning behind him. Little Bird crawls off of his lap to hug Kenzie, whimpering, “I was so scared for you, Kenzie.”
“Wh-What happened?” rasps Kenzie’s alien voice.
Grey replies, “Damn good luck, that’s what. The nebula bolt peeled open galley number two. Fisher found you clutching a cooking bench for dear life. Bug Queen here told Kane you were likely seconds from death, and she was able to stave off frostbite from most of your skin.”
“M-most…?” asks the young waitress nervously.
The Chief nods. “Fingertips and toes. You should be able to use them, still, but the sense of touch will be gone for good. Fortunately, the Queen here was able to sever the nerves for pain, so you won’t feel pain the rest of your life.”
Kenzie can feel her eyes quiver a little, but no tears form. Grey doesn’t miss it, though, and he says, “It’s alright to cry. You squeaked by this time. I’d cry if I was you.” The grisled marine scratches his temple gently. “Might have trouble though. You’re dehydrated beyond dehydrated.”
Kenzie looks briefly at the Zarakyssn changing out saline bags for someone nearby. She asks weakly, “It’s… helping?”
Grey nods. Little Bird answers, “Stranger said she wants to be like us. She has to wear gold just to hide her brain from her mean sisters.”
Grey adds, “Fisher recovered you on blind, near-meaningless hope. We don’t have the means to have rescued you. You don’t have to feel any kind of way, but she saved your life. That said, I ain’t here to hug you.”
She notices his rifle is within arm’s reach, as well as several other armed marines not far away.
Little Bird, however, says, “I am, though!” She hugs Kenzie again, saying “I’m so happy you’re okay, Kenzie. Rex and Levi will be so happy.”
“Wh-where…?”
“Providence,” answers Grey. “And, before you feel any kind of way about that statement, know that we had to emergency jump, so all of our ships are separated right now. Supposedly, Craw, Jor, and Long have a plan to regroup, but for now, best we can do is be alive.”
Kenzie nods weakly. She’s worried about Hancock and Lopez both, but she understands the implications of Grey’s words. There’s a real chance, even with a plan, they may never see each other again.
She puts it out of her mind. There’s no way Grey would settle for that, nor Long or any of the other Captains. Loyalty is their strongest asset. No one benefits from selfishness or anything else in these times.
“Will… I be… okay?” asks Kenzie through her weakened and raspy voice.
Grey nods, “Mm-hmm. According to Bugsie. Of course, she has been made crystal clear on lying, so she’s been monitoring her patients closely.” He scoffs, “Ironic, the bug Queen being the best medic we have.”
“W-... What is a ne-neb-...”
“Nebula bolt?”
She nods.
Little Bird explains calmly, “It’s a lightning bolt from the ghost of a star floating in space. Commandy Hitch says that it used to destroy ships, but the metals our ships use reduce damage.”
“What happened to…”
Grey sternly cuts her off, “Don’t go down that path. You already know the end. You made it. It’s okay to be content with that.” He gently pets Little Bird’s head, saying, “Can’t save the whole world with action, let alone concern.”
She nods solemnly.
“Fisher?”
Little Bird replies brightly, “Yeah! Fisher didn’t even recognize you when he found you. He said he was just worried about trying to get you out of the spaceyed room.”
Grey replies, “He wandered off a while ago. He was on the hull when the- uh, nevermind. He took a scare, so he needed a break.”
Kenzie looks distantly at the ceiling. “I owe you all so much…”
“I’ll take a drink on our new homeworld. Nothing else.”
She looks at him, and he adds, “My experience, everything comes out even in the end. A life debt is paid in near-death experience. I’d rather have a drink.”
She smiles with quivering, dry eyes. He leans forward and puts his hand on her shoulder, “You can rest easy now, Kenzie. We’ll be here to chase the bogeyman away.”
Kenzie whimpers and laughs at the same time, closing her eyes. Those words alone are so reassuring. She whispers, “Thank you…”
“You’re welcome.”
She does her best to relax and try to sleep. She still wants to question what happened and who was effected, but she hears his words in her head again. His words, “Can’t save the whole world with action, let alone concern,” make sense.
Her concern will save no one, but her caring actions for her friends might someday.
***