CHAPTER 1

DUNDONALD – BRIDGE – 05/12/4153

An uneasy air permeates the room as various personnel are attending their stations. A lone figure is seen striding between the various stationed personnel, taking mental notes and giving minor instructions on the task at hand. In-between the various sounds of computers and terminals doing their work – and the silent chatter of personnel coordinating their efforts in tandem – sits a stoic figure in the Captain’s chair. While it should be noted of the professional standards given to and abided by bridge personnel on Corporate-registered Warships, the Captain is seemingly a step above in her appearance – personal affectations aside.

A few moments later the lone figure seen moving about strides up to the Captain sitting in her chair, “Don’t enjoy the luxuries of the private sector too much now, Captain.”

The Captain’s eyes narrow to focus upon the First Officer standing before her, eventually she lets slip a smile, “Second Officer!”

The sharpness of the call startled the young Second Officer, “Si--!...Ma’am?” The Second Officer could barely say anything more as a polite, yet awkward silence settled across the bridge for a moment.

The Captain and First Officer exchange glances with a smile. “You address rank as Sir, Second Officer.” The Captain politely corrects her junior subordinate.

“Sir!” The Second Officer salutes as she regains her composure, waiting for the Captain to give her further orders.

The Captain stands up, ensuring proper cordial body language that, while not officially part of Corporate-Bridge protocol – is nonetheless part of the charm befitting her affectatious behavior. “ETA until we exit FTL?”

The Second Officer glances over her watch. “Six minutes and 16 seconds sir.”

The Captain seems pleased as she readjusts her hat. “Remind me again at three minutes with a ship-wide announcement.”

As if already with a salute in hand, the Second Officer responds in a flash, “Sir!”

“And make sure we have double spotters on the ready before we exit FTL. I don’t want anything -- not even space dust coming near us.” The Captain finishes her order as she turns to her First Officer.

The First Officer takes a moment to readjust his glasses, “The Octo-Cloaking System hasn’t deviated from the numbers Dr. Martel has given us, Marielle.”

Appreciating the downshift in formalities, the Captain obliges, “You can never be too careful exiting FTL, Martin. Even the slightest crack in any part of the Cloak will render it useless – HQ will have my head in a jar if I let something happen to their “premier” product before it even reaches the official beta testing phase.”

The First Officer notes dryly, “Dr. Martel as well.”

The Captain replied in a sarcastic tone while taking a step forward to enjoy the rather spectacular view of FTL travel through the port-side view-screen, “One headache is good enough for me right now, thank you very much.”

DUNDONALD – MECHBAY – 05/12/4153

Various voices shouting orders throughout the ‘Bay can be heard alongside the hard thumping of zero-gravity magnetic boots required by COS (Corporate Occupational Safety) regulations. As the various crews on spotter duty, mechanics duty and the pilots assigned for emergency scrap disposal finish their assembly – left standing alone before the masses stands an Officer. After waiting until the idle chatter dies down and all eyes focus on her, the lone Officer looks across the assembled groups, giving various eye glances and nods as if waiting for something to happen. Not even a moment after a slight wink ‘n gun, the sound of the announcement system tones in before alerting everyone, “Ship will be exiting FTL in less than 180 seconds.”

A smile warms the lone Officer’s face, “Alright, you should know the drill by now. But just in-case I’ll go over it one more time for the cheap seats.” She finishes as various light-hearted boo’s and “yo momma’s momma” can be heard.

The lone Officer clears her throat, a wide smile beaming across her face and shouts, “We’ll be exiting FTL in less than 150 seconds! Captain wants double Spotters on Duty! A free round from her own private stock for anybody who catches something!”

Seeing the stunned and awed looks across the various faces of the crewmembers assembled, she begins to finish her orders before a voice shouts from nowhere, “How do we know you’re not selling us up the river to Captain by screwing around with us ?”

Noticing the voice and rather distinct lack of respect for the rank while letting it slide, the lone Officer calmly states, “Woehllers, I’d jump in the bunk with you before even thinking of sending you up river to the Captain all tied up and willing.”

Laughter fills the ‘bay and she lets them finish before asserting, “No, gravevine is breathing down her neck on this one and it’s on OUR asses to make sure we get this done right – tossing in some extra for you to make sure none of you fuck it up is a bonus, you should be on your knee’s thanking the high lord!”

Without missing a beat the Officer shouts her orders, “We’ll do this by the book,one hour shifts while switching off alternatively! Dismissed!”

Everybody cheers before heading to their assigned positions. The lone officer approaches one of the pilots – a rather unprofessional pilot by Corporate Grooming Standards, and politely uses her rank to pull her aside. “Kirin, you up for another round in the Simulator after?” she asks.

Focused on her Mech, and without looking at the Officer in front of her, Kirin remarks, “You know me Lieutenant, I never refuse a match.”

Smiling, the Lieutenant replies, “Good,” and walks away.

DUNDONALD – CAFETERIA – 05/12/4153

A quiet riot of sounds and smells envelopes the Cafeteria as various ship personnel are enjoying their meals alongside the spectacle developing near one of the cafeteria recreation monitors. Among the burgeoning spectacle -- two figures standout, their regal yet simplistic attire patterned in the Imperial Colonies Royal House colors in stark contrast amidst the monotonous style of military garb, with the candor, smiles and laughter surrounding and blending them in like they were one of the crew.

Amidst the clamor near the recreation monitor, a lone figure in a Pilot suit stands up, exclaiming half-jokingly, “Your majesty, your highness. It has been an honor, but I must excuse myself as duty calls!”

“Archaic formalities aside, call me Zlatan please,” he smiles and salutes the departing Pilot before continuing – “I had ‘absconded’ from my ‘duties’ leaving the Prime Minister in a bind just so I could tag along with my beloved sister, Zurania. Under any other circumstances one would be treated as a stowaway, no? So please, think of me as nothing but that.”

Placing his arm around Zurania, teasing her, Zlatan mused, “Now, if I had any idea of what she had planned for me, I dare say I wouldn’t have been so restless as to sneak onboard and surprise her.”

Smiling as well and enjoying the friendly embrace of her brother, Zurania responds, “It wouldn’t be much of a Birthday surprise if I just spoiled my present for you brother.”

“That never stopped you before sister!” Zlatan says, laughing as the rest of the group joins in.

In Between the conversations and pleasantries, unbeknownst to all but herself, Zurania couldn’t help sneak a glance at the lone remaining pilot sitting down across from her. Another glance soon followed, yet the more she kept looking, the more she couldn’t help herself, until finally hearing her name being mentioned and responding with perfect composure, “Yes?”

Her brother continues, “What was it like meeting The Ultimate Warrior?”

“Ah, yes, ‘The Ultimate Warrior’,” Zurania remarks as she begins to recall from memory the encounter, “It was for a charity event – sponsored by the Jardine Foundation infact, just after his unfortunate retirement.” She stops herself for a moment, perplexed, “Why do you ask?”

Zlatan motions towards the lone pilot sitting by himself – the one Zurania had been secretly checking out, “Lieutenant… Dayo Onwuzireke, was it?” Dayo nods politely.

Zlatan was in the middle of continuing his train of thought before suddenly; from out of nowhere a flash of light illuminated the room for a brief moment, catching everyone off-guard. Several surprised remarks of “Wow!” could be heard throughout the room as everybody started going back to their business.

Unfortunately for Zurania -- Dayo had gotten up, excusing himself. “My apologies Zlatan, and… Zurania, if you’ll excuse me.” The slight emphasis on Zurania’s name caressing her ears ever so softly.

Zlatan on the other hand had already proceeded to find more personnel to continue carousing with, while Zurania -- not wanting to let her brother get too out of hand, and while enjoying a casual thought to herself for but a moment, began to make her way over to join her brother.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

DUNDONALD – MECHBAY – CHIEF ENGINEER OFFICE – 05/12/4153

A din noise of Mechanics moving around and working on their assigned Mech Suits can be heard overhead. Inside the comfortably close quarters, neatly packed away in the corner at a desk just big enough to hold a monitor and keyboard, sits a long figure typing away. Cap backwards, chewing on a pen acting as a replacement for a cigar, he stops for a moment to think, readjusting the pen in his mouth before pushing the chair back, standing up and stretching – letting out an equally long yawn. As he turns around he notices someone at the door and gives a courteous nod indicating the door is open.

“Hey Helen, how are you?” He says as if still half-asleep, until finally noticing, “Coffee? Thanks a bunch, I’d been getting tired sitting here all day typing up reports.”

Helen smiles while handing him a cup of coffee, “Everybody knows the Chief Engineer needs to be in top shape. I’m good though Carl thanks -- still licking my wounds after getting my butt whooped in the Simulator though,” a slight painful tone echoing in the last of her words.

Taking a sip of his coffee, savoring the taste for a moment, Carl replies, “Kirin, eh? Yeah she’s a tough one. Even Dayo says he can’t keep up with her,” He takes another sip, perking up as the caffeine begins to hit, “I suppose that’s why the First Officer decided to pull for her despite Corporate Regulations denying her on account of her, uh, colorful appearance.” Carl takes another sip while giving a polite look as if asking about the binder in Helen’s hand.

Helen lifts the Binder level with her face, remarking, “Official specs on the present her Highness had us pick up,” and proceeds to place the Binder on the only desk suitable enough for something to be placed upon. “She was recommended that you get the boys to give it a tune-up for her brother, the Emperor -- mentioned a little extra pay for the help on top of the usual High-born formalities of praise,” Helen smiles, giving the Binder a pat.

He doesn’t bother to grab the binder, still finishing the last few gulps of his now cold coffee, “Good enough for me,” Carl says before being interrupted by the ring of the phone on the wall.

Helen reaches for the phone answering, “Lieutenant Sinclair,” as momentary silence falls over the Office as she listens, before asking out-loud, “Someone caught something?”

Carl begins to mosey on over to the window with barely enough view of the ‘Bay. When he finally made it over, he moves aside a few stacks of papers and binders full of schematics and design documents, taking a closer look at the sudden commotion happening around the Launch-Bay Airlock, taking a moment to observe the situation before mentioning, “Looks that way, they have someone… Kirin – getting ready to Suit up.”

“Alright, I’ll notify Captain.” Helen picks up the phone again, “Lt. Sinclair here, notify Captain the spotters have found something. Disposal is bringing it in for analysis; I’ll be on my way to supervise.” She waits a moment for confirmation before hanging up, asking Carl, “Thoughts?”

Responding half-unsure, Carl mutters, “Looks like we’ll find out when we get there.”

DUNDONALD – MECHBAY -- 05/12/4153

Kirin grabs her Pilot's helmet from the locker hanger storage and fastens it to her belt before hearing someone call her name. Recognizing the voice and turning around, Kirin sarcastically asks, “Something I can help you with L.T?”

“You sure you got your eight?” Helen asks Kirin, as if wondering out-loud to herself.

Wanting to avoid the question entirely, but knowing the subtle bags under her eyes were impossible to hide, especially with Lieutenant Sinclair on the ball all the time -- Kirin cut right to the chase, answering rather sheepishly, “Been having trouble sleeping these past few weeks. Body still adjusting to space I suppose – but don’t worry about me, I’m always good to go in a ‘Suit, no matter how bad I get.” Kirin laughs, trying to sound funny.

Helen lets out a polite smile before replying, “Better me then the Captain giving you a lecture on the corporate-military regulations codebook.” Helen motions to Kirin as they turn, heading towards the lone Mech Suit being prepped by the mechanics on duty, continuing, “I’ll let you have your fun with trash disposal, but after that, orders – from me of course, are to get your full eight.” Helen finishes her orders and stops a moment, waiting for acknowledgement from Kirin.

Making a sudden turn, Kirin responds with a swift and crisp salute, followed by an authoritative, “Sir!” before turning and making her way towards the Pilot-assist platform.

Before Helen could finish turning around to focus her attention on the Spotter who came in early, the voice of The Chief Engineer could be heard talking in a rather calm tone of voice,

Giving the young spotter a bit of a pep-talk, Carl says, “You did good, son. Not sure what the Lieutenant has to say about any of this,” while giving him a pat on the back before sending him off to his fate with the Lieutenant standing there, trying her best to look menacing.

Standing there for a moment, trying to do her best impression of the Captain’s infamous death-glare, Helen soon cracks a smile, relenting her ‘death glare’ and asking, “Are you trying to pull a fast one on me Baker?” as she tries her best to get in as much fun as possible, not letting up and continuing, “You want off shift early? You got the hots for someone? Who is it? Medical? Cafeteria staff? One of our esteemed pilots? Come on, spill it Baker.”

After finishing her barrage of questions, Helen gives the Private a moment to fully take in what she said before a voice can be heard shouting, “You piece of shit Baker!”

Lieutenant Sinclair takes a moment to shoot a quick ‘it is what it is’ glance at Baker, deciding to take a more evened approach after seeing his sheepish reaction, “So what exactly did you find out there Baker?”

Still a tad flustered from finally processing what the Lieutenant had all said, Baker gives a salute before replying in a quiet voice, “Chief Engineer is always talking about how any scrap is useful.”

“A for effort at least” Lieutenant Helen Sinclair shrugs before continuing, “I suppose we’ll see what you’ve found when it gets brought back in.”

Giving space, Helen signals to Kirin to boot up and head into the launch pad.

DUNDONALD – MECHBAY – LAUNCHBAY – 05/12/4153

The darkness of the Launch-Bay is broken in an instant by a shower of pale yellow lights waving about illuminating the shadows. Before long the overhead lights flick on as the loud sounds of the Mechbay door shatter the once silent interior of the Launch-Bay. In rather brisk fashion the doors slide away before finishing their routine with a thud. Two by two the track lights flick on, providing further illumination for the Kinetic Launch System.

In the distance the sound of a loud purring comes to life trailing by a series of loud yet cushioned steps upon the steel floor. From out of the Mechbay steps forward a standard-issue GTO Veri-Fighter, the SF2-Hunter, walking down the half-length of the Kinetic Launch System before coming to a stop.

Inside the cockpit, Kirin completes another rundown of all systems, paying particular attention to the weight-distribution servo-systems. She gives the arm-controls a tug, testing the tension controls -- thoroughly impressed with the Mechanic’s work, Kirin chimes in over communications, “Alpha-Two, all clear here, waiting for the Air-lock, Over.”

A slight pause before the flashing pale yellow lights turn to red and a horn indicating the Air-Lock will be releasing sounds -- the Mechbay door jerking alive and sliding closed, releasing a puff of gas indicating an air-tight seal. The slight hissing of gas vacating the room via venting can be heard and, soon after, a loud series of rapid clicking blasts out from the outer Launch-bay doors, releasing its locks, sliding apart and opening.

Kirin maneuvers her Suit forward with ease, stepping outside the Launch-bay and becoming engulfed in the illumination of the stars and assorted celestial bodies that dot the far reaches of space.

“Alpha-Two; looks like a hunk of shit to me, over,” remarks Kirin, dead-pan. She maneuvers closer to the space debris Private Baker had hauled in, taking a moment to observe a subtle yet faint vapor trail – weird she thought.

Positioning her suit in-front of the space debris, and with a singular motion, grabs and sweeps up the piece of space debris, turning around before proceeding back inside the Launch-Bay, muttering over communications, “Alpha-Two; object seems heavy enough to pass as scrap -- least it’ll be good for something, over.”

DUNDONALD – MECHBAY – 05/12/4153

Quiet sirens are ringing out intermixed with orange lights waving about, indicating the Launch-Bay is in the process of re-pressurizing and refilling with Oxygen. All the while the various Mechanics and ship personnel on duty in the ‘Bay head to their assigned positions, waiting with excitement and a few out-loud thoughts of “’Wonder if Baker’ll win the pot?” interspersed through the murmurs and chatter of personnel waiting to see who would win.

The Chief Engineer and Lieutenant Sinclair are waiting by the main-access door, having been joined by an exceptionally sharp-dressed man in his early thirties.

From the looks of the awkward conversation, the sharp-dressed man seemingly reintroduces himself again, “Think nothing of it, I get that all the time – we corporate suits look alike, don’t we?” He smirks, shifting the shirt-collar around his neck before continuing with a polite but effective smile, “Calvin Burke, pleasure to meet you.”

Helen couldn’t stop herself from laughing in an uncomfortable manner – clearly forgetting his name as she reached out to shake Calvin’s hand. Carl had meanwhile decided to give Calvin a solid pat on the back, but before any more rounds of pleasantries could be exchanged, the sound of the ‘Bay door slid open, interrupting them.

Before either of them could say anything, a voice shouts out, “He ain’t won nothin’ until we analyze it! Might be a space rock for all we know!”

Meanwhile, during the commotion of Mechanics shouting out cheers and jeers, Kirin had noticed something was odd with the “space debris” she brought in. Everything seemed fine to her – the ‘Suit running perfectly, no sudden missteps or issues with the control grip – yet the closer she looked, it appeared if something had moved. The once steady pace of her ‘Suit slowing down, her eyes focusing on the ‘debris’ more and more the longer she looked, as if… something was moving.

The ever slowing pace of Kirin’s ‘Suit soon came to a halt, the once festive atmosphere in the ‘Bay being replaced by an uneasy silence of Mechanics and personnel wondering what is happening.

Sensing that something was wrong, Helen darted to the phone next to Main-Access, ringing the bridge for communications access into Kirin’s ‘Suit, “Bridge, Lieutenant Sinclair here, patch me through to Alpha-Two.”

Patched in, Helen takes a second to focus on the piece of Debris before asking, “Kirin, what’s going on?”

From Kirin’s view, all she could see was the slight and subtle imperceptible movements upon the piece of Debris held within her MechSuit’s arms. She had heard Lieutenant Sinclair, yet a mix of frightful wonderment at what could be inside this mysterious piece of debris transfixed her entire being. Unable to respond, Kirin could only breathlessly stare at the almost undetectable bending of the space debris throwing off small, tiny, almost insignificant flecks of what appeared to be metallic rust.

“Alpha-two, respond, over,” Helen kept repeating in an increasingly annoyed tone, half-worried something might seriously be wrong.

“Alpha…Alpha-two here; think something might be… inside?” Kirin finally replied, wanting to silence the noise over communications. Half-snapping out of it, she began to maneuver her ‘Suit into a crouch position to set the debris upon the ground. However the more she moved the ‘Suit, the bending and warping of the debris became more frequent -- growing louder as everyone in the ‘Bay slowly became mesmerized by the rhythmic sound emanating from the supposed piece of space debris.

Bang.

Bang.

Slowly the sounds of warping metal began echoing throughout the ‘Bay, growing louder and more violent as time slowly crept forward.

“What the f...,” before Kirin could finish her sentence, before she could even finish processing what was happening – the sounds of what could only be described as an animalistic shriek leaked out from the piece of debris between the MechSuit’s arms. And then, suddenly without warning and without reason, a section of the debris gave way, flying off and smashing against the body of Kirin’s ‘Suit and startling her with a loud shout, “Jesus fucking Christ!”

A split-second was all it took for Kirin to regain her composure, a split-second to recognize the familiar viscous fluid leaking out from the open wound in the piece of debris – instantly triggering the familiar scent of death in her mind as it choked her senses before a grim expression befell her face.

Yet as with all miracles, and all beginnings, a faint glimmer of hope begins anew.

Kirin tilted the piece of debris ever so slightly, hoping the light would give her answers, until…

“Help…Help me…” a faint voice murmured.

Crying out, Kirin shouted, “Medic!”

END CHAPTER 1