NaNo 2009 - Part 1

This is part one of my newest NaNo attempt, a cumulative 3 days worth (5001 ((5058)) words).


Two days after the priority message from command, the Alexia floated in the stillness of space. Jakob sat on the bridge, waiting patiently in the quiet, unaccustomed to being uninformed by the captain for so long. He was tense, blankly staring at the monitor projecting the emptiness about the ship, and focused on listening for the chime signifying the call from the captain. His attention was broken when he realized that someone was trying to attract his attention.
“Sir,” she repeated. “We’re getting a burst call from the Hiro. Code rose.”
Jakob frowned briefly, before he glanced back and replied, “Patch it through to the captain.” After returning his gaze to the dull space on the screen, he did not hear the hums and clicks associated with the computer’s work. “Magda?”
“Yes sir.” A flurry of muted beeps followed with a trailing curt apology. After a brief sigh, she asked, “Commander, this makes the second rose in the past few days. One from command and now one from supply. And no word from the captain…”
“Is there a question these, Lieutenant?” Jakob replied.
“Well, sir. Do you have any idea what’s going on? Rumor is suggesting war or a resurgence of the Guild. Could that be true?”
Jakob turned back in his chair, scanning the other bridge officers’ faces, many quickly returning their eyes to their workstations, but still intently listening. “Lieutenant Magda. While those may be possibilities, I would expect as an officer of the Valiant Confederation of Forces you to be above the common fear-inducing rumors that paralyze the Empire and the common mercenary.” He smiled grimly, satisfied he did not overdo his chastisement of the young officer. “However,” he began again, “I intend to ask the captain that very question. Magda, you have the conn.”
Magda’s eyes widened slightly before she nodded, “Yes sir.” She began the tedious process of walking to the command chair, passing the commander as on the way. After sitting in the chair, she logged into the console and transferred her workstation to the upper bridge chair. She then turned towards Jakob and watched him switch off his gravmag and float into the access shaft.
Jakob flung himself through the access shaft that leads to the central living section of the Alexia. Unlike the bridge, which was painted in a dull orange color that was supposed to promote alertness, but not hastiness, the cross-section shafts were solid white with a cone of color heading to each opening. Jakob yanked on the polished chrome rings that served as a ladder in the narrow space. He had already oriented himself in the proper direction to enter the living section and paid no attention to the green core section as the entrance flew past his right.
Loosely grabbing rungs as the blue cone widened to a door’s width, Jakob slowed his ascent enough to flip into the blue residential section. He reactivated the gravmag to positive and braced for the often too abrupt contact with the standard floor. Taking a few moments to brace himself and stand, the first officer headed through the maze of corridors and access shafts that lead to the powder blue officer block.
He briefly straightened his uniform and rang the bell of the captain’s hatch. Only a few seconds had passed before the remote lock on hatch released and a booming voice rolled out, “Come in, Commander.”
Jakob exhaled slightly, his tall frame sagging, and swung the door inward and entered the captain’s quarters. Knowing the pending request, he closed and sealed the door behind him. As he turned about, the commander called out, “Sir.” He paused, expecting to find the captain’s hand holding up two fingers, indicating the necessity to wait. Instead the captain was only a dark silhouette behind a model of raining colored sand.
Most modern ships used a two-dimensional, digital cartographic map, but the captain had request that his old, advanced sand model be installed on the Alexia. Through a unique combination of lasers, colored, magnetic sand, a model of the ship, and some basic calculating power, a field of space was projected in an interactive three dimensions for the captain to visualize the region, system, or battlefield and interact with it in real time. Jakob hardly ever saw it used, but knew enough about it to see that it was not actively running any scenarios.
The captain stood looking down at the control pad on the ledge of the sand model. Speaking in deep uncharacteristically hoarse voice, the captain started “Commander Hanson…” He switched off the small monitor and met the officer’s gaze before continuing. “I can assume you’re here to try to pull some information about the message.”
He gestured downward, indicating the small computer. “Unfortunately, this information is for captain’s eyes only.” Now he held his hand up to indicate patience. “I know I typically share information with you; however, this is a very unusual occurrence and a briefing will have to wait. You may leave now.” With a stroke of finality, he motioned toward the door and reengaged the monitor.
“Aye, captain,” replied the stunned commander. Pausing at the door, he asked, hopefully, “Sir, the Guild?”
The captain closed his eyes and turned up the ambient light slightly. He reopened them and search the first mate’s face for many long seconds before setting his jaw and replying, “No, Jakob. The Guild is really gone.” With that the commander went back through the portal and returned to the bridge.
After the door had shut, the captain flipped a switch to reactivate the lock and continued, “This is much, much worse than the Guild…”

Marissa wanted to yell in exasperation or strangle the next crew member to come into the med center with anything less than a broken limb. She wanted to get back to the research center and finish her growth experiments, but she was on shift and had to go down the access shaft anytime someone entered the infirmary.
She disabled her gravmag and pulled herself down the pukish yellow shaft to respond to the chime of the medical center doors, after barely having enough time to stand after enabling the suit’s control.
Peeking her head from the shaft and brushing her drifting, reddish-blonde hair from her face to see the chief surgeon entering the bay. He glanced up at her and gave a half smile and rigid wave before heading to the sleepsuit in the back of the room.
Marissa pulled off the difficult turnaround in the small tunnel and floated back up to her lab to continue her experiments. Unfortunately, the role of chief medical officer and science and technology officer have begun to fill the same positions on VCoF ships, so her peace of mind lasted until a researcher began complaining loudly about the captain’s ‘all silent’ decision.
“Scientist Kevella,” she chided. “Your energy anomaly experiments don’t take precedence of orders from central command. So, really, shut the hell up and let me finish my work.” The civilian scientist averted his eyes and slunk away to rejoin the other researchers in the cushioned waiting area. As Marissa Deville finally turned back to her work, the muted siren bellowed throughout the ship and the status strip, a bar of light in the middle of each wall, switched from the soft blue to a glaring, flashing yellow.
“Shit!” exclaimed Marissa as she slammed the pipet back into its secure station.

Katsuro Okado had his gravmag off as he floated restlessly in his room. He kept his quarters with the field reversed to surprise anyone that entered the room. He spun his special issue carbon blade rapidly through the air, timing his grabs to either catch the hilt or pass cleanly though the area.
“Damn, dead space,” he muttered to himself. “Damn, all silent.”
His dark hair was cropped close to his golden skin. He always felt a little torn between his hairstyle, one he felt was appropriate for a grunt to wear in modern combat, and a more ancestral topknot, to designate him a warrior. The VCF did not require standards on hair or accessories, as long as the job got done.
The alert blared throughout his quarters, causing him to snatch up the rotating blade and slip it into his belt. He pulsed on his gravmag to gain some momentum towards the ‘floor’ and then pushed himself towards the control panel embedded in the wall next to the door. Flipping a custom call switch, he yelled out, “Gassers! Report to the hanger on alert! I repeat. Gassers, get your asses to the hangar, now!”
He heaved open the hatch, switched his personal magnet device to negative and ran down the ‘ceiling’ towards the nearest access shaft that lead to red. His toned upper body let him soar past the others in the shaft, even though his boots were constantly drawn to the shiny rungs.
He rolled through the hatch that represented the GASS hangar and stood gracefully near the entrance, examining the area to see how many had beat him here. In the Armor hangar, the polarity of the gravmag was irrelevant, since it bound loosely to all magnetic surfaces.
Despite his rushed pace to arrive in the hangar, he strolled carefully among all the tubes, wires, and conduits connecting the large, mechanized suits that filled the room to seemly every open ports in the bay. The giant tangle was only an appearance, since the GASS had a unique core of engineers to maintain the war machines.
Pausing in the center of the floor, Katsuro grinned as his troops filed in.

Maria stalked onto the upper bridge from a small access shaft that traveled to near the ship’s hull. Unlike the rest of the crew, she found the emptiness of space to be a beautiful, tranquil place. She would often sit with her hand on the second hull and let the leaching, cold metal chill her palm and the air about her, wondering what it would be like to float in the void, alone with the distant light of the stars.
As she descended onto the upper bridge, she noticed that Jakob had disappeared before she was assigned to relieve him. “Where is Commander Hanson?” Asked Maria, as she reengaged her gravmag.
A startled Magda abruptly stood and saluted. “Commander! Commander Hanson left to talk with the Captain, ma’am. We received another rose, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Maria replied. “You may return to your post.” She gave a brisk salute and sat in the command chair. She was only able to skim the log of reports for a few minutes until a corporal called out.
“Commander Stevens! Passive scan suppression has activated, ma’am. Bearing thirty seven, twenty four, two hundred eighty. Appears to be a direct course, long range. Possibly following our vapor trail. Not VCoF or standard. Ma’am.”
She paused a few seconds, biting the inside of her lip, before she called out, “Alert all hands, general yellow alert!” Seconds later the ship erupted in the siren and yellow flashing lights.
Sliding the control pad near her, she called into its small microphone, “Captain, you’re needed on the bridge!” After a few more clicks she broadcasted, “Senior bridge staff, please report to duty stations. Engagement operations signal status. Non-priority personnel, prepare to lockdown order.”
The lower bridge burst with noise, a pit of clicks, beeps, and voices, as stations hailed the bridge with status. Maria began to scroll through the list as it developed on her command screen, noting missing reports and non-go statuses. As the list neared completion, Jakob had drifted to the upper bridge, startling Maria as he spoke out, “Commander Fields, status?”
“Uhm, sir, GASS and PNP haven’t checked in yet sir. Three drones are not operational and aft cluster cannon array can’t be synced,” replied the second officer after briefly checking the list.
Reaching across the lieutenant commander, Jakob mashed a few buttons on her control unit. He then bellowed at the pad and too close to her ear, “Casper, report status estimate.”
After twenty seconds a reply called back, “I expect to be operating at ninety percent, sir. And don’t call me casper. Commander Okado out and doing my job.”
Jakob smiled briefly, until saw Maria cringing still. The commander then briefly mouthed an apology. Their eyes locked briefly until the lower bridge fell silent, except the persistent chime of an incoming call to the bridge. Magda’s voice rang out, “Captain on the bridge.”
Maria swiftly slid from the chair and took up a position to the left of the vacant seat, while Jakob backed up slowly to a similar position on the chair’s right. The captain approached them slowly, his face betraying his deep concentration on other matters. Maria had served under Captain Reynolds long enough to know that as his large, square frame, sank into the command chair, somber was the most cheerful way to descript his mood. He sat, absorbing the data on the pad that Maria had been compiling reports, spending a few long minutes reviewing it in silence.
Looking over his right shoulder he quietly asked, “Ship status?”
The first officer had already scooped up the smaller portable control pad that had been docked into a workstation in the rear of the upper bridge. All stations have reported in. The armor reports ninety percent capability. Power and propulsion estimate ninety three percent maximal output for greater than three cycles. Seventeen of twenty drones are operational. All four remaining personal fighters are a go. And, as typical, aft cluster particle cannon array is asynchronous.” Both his voices and shoulders shrugged as he completed the report.
The captain only nodded, expressionlessly, before turning his head and asking, “Situation?”
Maria, likewise equipped with a small, handheld workstation, replied confidently, “I issued a yellow alert after the passive scanning suppression system activated and the trajectory was listed as a straight-on course. All silent protocol’s required me to raise the alert, sir. Scanning signature was unrecognized, but totally dissimilar to Confederate, Guild, or standard scans. It bears the most resemblance to what was registered to a small mercenary squadron called,” she glanced down at the pad to confirm, “the Reapers of Grim, sir.”
Once again, the captain took the information silently and emotionless. After the completion of the update, he pulled the fixed screen closer to him and flicked a few switches. After pausing on a few screens, he finally grunted, “Reapers of Grim is a reborn operation previously known as Raiders of Doom. Overdramatic disruption force… Typically targets large operations at the request of a smaller collective.”
Thumbing the all important ‘all call’ button, the captain spoke slowly, “Attention Alexia. Code orange, skirmish imminent. Please take duty stations, lockdown in twenty.” As he released the special red button, the alarm blared once and the flashing yellow strips shifted to orange.

‘Doc’ Marseilles had hoped that he might have a shift that he would be able to sleep though. He knew the dangers of both sleep deprivation and sleeping drugs, especially when he was considered one of those ‘essential’ personnel. Reaching across his chest, he pulled the strap that triggered the release of the sleepsuit. After untangling the mess of lightweight, yet thick, fabric and reactivating the gravmag, he began prepping the tables of the surgeries he knew to be coming sooner than he liked, which was after a vacation.

Maria took the few steps back to the rear wall and strapped herself into the raised chair in front of a plethora of switches and buttons surrounding. After powering a variety of subsystems to get a simultaneous view of most of the ships aspects, she called out, “Captain, contact expected in forty minutes. GASS reports one more armor suit operational.”
Following her lead, Jakob shifted to an identical station. “Sir, do we end all silent?”
Pressing the all call again, the captain spoke clearly, “In twenty five minutes, all ‘all silent’ operations end and only necessary systems will remain active. Prepare to engage enemy in… thirty seven minutes.”
Maria exchanged a slightly alarmed look with her superior, who simply responded with another simple shrug. Rechecking her calculations, she became more concerned and breathlessly whispered, “Twelve minutes simply isn’t enough time…”
The remaining time in all silent mode trickled away, except for a brief flurry of commands that followed the lockdown order, which shut access to all residential sections. Maria fixated to the stream of milliseconds streaming down on the contact estimate and repeated, “Not enough time.”
‘All silent’ expired and the whole ship could feel the persistent thrum of the engine mutate as PNP throttled the core of the ship. After two days, Maria had finally adjusted to the absent, constant vibration, but now realized how much she missed the dull background noise that filled even the most modern vessels. As the minutes ticked away, stations chimed the bridge, indicating their fully operational.
She began to check off the list of regions essential for successful combat: maneuvering, ready, cluster cannons, charged, buffer shield generators, on standby, main propulsion, engaged. She then switched to the list of systems unable to be functional before time: hyperthread drive, ion cannons, leech tethers, missile control.
Four minutes remain. Communications systems were normal, same with life support and gravmag. Fuel cells over one hundred percent, due to solar reserves. Three minutes left. Jakob called out to the entire room, “Prepare for contact!”
She turned towards the first officer and softly said, “I really hate this part.”
Jakob smiled and was about to reply, when the captain interrupted, “So do I commander. Prepare what we have ready to fire as they make their first pass. Do not fire until my command.”
The relativistic distortion of space induced by near light speed traveling was a telltale sign of an incoming attack. Maria entered the command sequence to lock onto the target when it appeared and open fire and left her thumb hovering on the edge of the button. Ready to react at the captain’s word, the button would relay commands to the lower bridge firing command, as well as each gunner officer and gunner to ensure enough redundancy for eventual casualties and system damages.
The pointed hull of a ship resolved from a blur of light. A wicked scythe was painted across the bow of the vessel, almost confirming the earlier prediction of the ship’s alignment. The nose almost instantly reoriented towards the Alexia. In a dark scrawling print, next to the insignia on the Reaper ship, was the name: ‘Jinn.’ Maria had to strain to hear the captain’s low curse, “Loredo… Hail the Jinn. Patch it directly to me!”
Jakob processed the command more quickly and confirmed the order. Less than a minute later, he replied, “We have audio only, sir.”
“Thank you commander, patch it now,” replied the captain.
The sound of a harsh, bitter voice resonated out of the captain’s pad, “Clifford Reynolds. Fancy seeing you here.”
The captain snarled and issued a terse warning, “Loredo, break off your heading and we’ll talk. Otherwise I’ll have no choice but to destroy you.” An insincere chuckle was the only answer he received before the comm went dead. “Commander Fields, belay my order. Open fire!” roared the captain.
The incoming vessel had already unleashed a full volley of particles and missiles. Accompanying the Jinn were the frigates Imp and Pixie, which were even less well equipped than the Jinn in raw force, but contained a massive stockpile of drones that easily engulf a standard destroyer.
The Alexia rocked the volley striking its diamond hull. Maria shouted over that rattling as small shards of diamond crashed into the second hull, “No second hull damage! Four percent loss of diamond shield. Particle arrays are returning fire on the Jinn. GASS indicates deployment readiness.”
Jakob continued as she took a deep breath. “Missiles available in three minutes! Ions in ten. Hyperthread is unavailable!” He took a sip of water from the straw projecting from the wall and continued, “Leech claws are ready for deployment.”
“Divert fire to the drone bays on the Imp! Ready the claws and GASS for boarding the Jinn. When missiles come online, I want you to target the Jinn propulsion vents,” ordered the captain.
“Aye, sir,” called back the officers and began clicking away at their stations, working in tandem to obliterate the Reapers.

Two hours later, Jakob’s voice was hoarse. Maria had already left for a brief respite from the tedious communication and computer work. The standard Imperial cruiser, the base model for the Alexia, would not have likely held its own in a fight against two frigates and a skilled light cruiser. The Confederate modifications had expanded the ships arsenal by near half, as well as improved the computer systems and incorporated the proprietary diamond hull technology, which allowed the creation of a protective mesh on the outer hull in real time.
The chime from one of the many monitors still active in front of the first officer interrupted his intense focus. He tentatively called out, “Sir, Commander Okado is hailing from the Jinn.”
The captain nodded, “Patch him through.”
Katsuro’s square jaw filled the captain’s and commander’s control panels. “Captain,” he started, “we’ve managed to secure the Jinn’s bridge. Most of the upper leadership, including Captain Loredo, perished sometime after the breach, but before we could secure both the bridge and mainframe. Preliminary analysis confirms the mainframe is intact; however, the captain seems to have dumped the ship and personal logs. We’re still exploring the ship. We’ve only found one trap so far, but I expect more, sir.” He nodded and closed the connection. A one way connection to report was found to be the best because the receiver remained secure behind the computer firewall.
The captain turned his brooding eyes towards Jakob and spoke in a slow, tired cadence, “Prepare a casualty and damage report. Bring it to my office whenever it’s completed.” He stood and did not return Jakob’s victorious smile.
As he neared the ledge leading to the lower bridge, the subordinate halted him with a questioning ‘sir.’ Jakob brushed his dark wavy hair from his eyes and continued, “What do we do with the prisoners? Ransom or adrift?”
The captain pursed his lips slightly, lifted his white cap and rubbed the bald scalp beneath. Restoring his hat, he replied, “Take them on board. Secure them in cargo bay three. When the Commander Okado’s soldiers return, alternate them on guard duty.” He nodded in self assurance and resumed his descent and trip to the office.
Jakob weakly answered, “Aye, sir” before reaching the comm switch and summoning Katsuro, who only frowned and acknowledged the relayed orders. With a small sigh of finality, Jakob began the tedious process of compiling each station’s final reports on damages. Over the next hour and a half, he realized that he had spent near the same amount of time writing up the battle as he did fighting in it. Finishing up the documents, he transferred them to the portable access device from the rear upper bridge. Securing it in his belt, he drifted from the upper bridge towards the door. As he exited, and not knowing who was on duty at the moment, he called back over his shoulder, “Lieutenant, you have the bridge!”
He traveled up the access shaft, propelling himself upwards every ten rungs. Finally reaching his the captain’s office, which was located above the bridge and utility access points and entered directly from the access shaft, Jakob pounded on the door three times and waited to the door to open. About a minute later, he prepared to knock again, when a sudden door creak stayed his hand and the hatch swung open with a sickly squeal. The captain walked back to his desk as the commander latched the door.
“I have that report for you, sir” Stated the first officer, anxious to leave the room. The captain’s office always seemed more oppressive than even the tightest spaces on the ship. The captain swiveled his chair to face the three large screens located behind his desk, like windows in a high rise office, and slowly lowered himself into the chair. It seemed that only recently the captain decade of experience over the longest serving crewmember seemed to really show. Perhaps, Jakob thought, his smile was keeping him rejuvenated but we haven’t seen that side of him for weeks.
“Go ahead,” responded the captain after a few moments with his chair turned towards the screen. Swiveling aback around to face the first officer, he gave an approving nod.
“Aye, sir. Thirty seven wounded, with two in critical condition due to a battery blowback. No fatalities, sir. Ion cannon starboard six is out of commission, because of the blowback I had mentioned sir. Fuel stocks seem more than adequate. Salvage operations are underway and drone command expects to be able to reprogram the basic drones, but the kami and heavies seem too well encrypted. Scrap is being collected to be turned into cannon shot. Rations, water, and compressed air is being transferred over. Rescued rations will be placed in the hold with the prisoners and monitored for consumption. All incoming prisoners are being screened for explosives, arms, and potential contagious diseases. We estimate to be underway in under four hours, if you don’t wish to return to ‘all silent,’ sir.”
The captain actually smiled, but Jakob doubted that it was completely natural. At this point he decided to offer his suggestion, “Sir, if I may, perhaps we can rendezvous with the Hiro command group? If the Reaper’s arrived there first, they may need our assistance until they can repair their damages. If not, we can transfer prisoners and supplies for use later. And…” Jakob trailed off. Typically the captain was jovial, but hardly let any other emotion expose itself. The anger building is the captain’s face was not only disturbing to the first officer, but also seemed unnatural on his face.
The captain’s voice was in that hazy ground between yelling and scolding, “I will not have you telling me how to run this ship. We will remain here until we can decrypt the Jinn mainframe. We will not return to the Hiro group at this time. We will attempt no contact with Confederate command or the Hiro group. You will have DC disable ALL of our kami drones and heavy drones and fill their docks with converted basic drones. You will personally oversee the ghost team breaking into the mainframe. Dismissed!”
With those severe, impenetrable, final syllables, Jakob turned, crestfallen, towards the hatch. He slowly descended the access shaft, passing the bridge and meander the complex halls until he arrived in his sparse quarters after a very long, triple shift. He sank deep into his bedding, before determining that he should finish his orders before drifting off.
After relaying all the necessary commands to many displeased officers, Jakob stripped himself of his gravmag uniform and dressed in confortable off-duty clothes and strapped himself into the sleepersuit bound to the wall. Before sleep claimed him, Jakob Hanson finally decided on something. He was no longer sure about the captain, command, and the overall mission. For the first officer, this was a radical change.

Burns, fractures, gashes. Of the thirty seven injured in the most recent skirmish, Marissa saw about every battle injury that she could think of… except loss of limb and loss of life, but she was very glad to not have to process those patients. ‘Doc’ Marseilles was now running very short on sleep. Unable to catch anytime in the sleepsuit in the main medical center, he was forced to do twelve surgeries in less than three hours. As well as handling the two criticals that were brought in. Regardless if it was still his shift, he was hunting for Dr. Deville to notify her of his intention. He knew she’d have his fill out forms for the next four shifts if he didn’t.
Meanwhile, Marissa lurked in the research access tunnel, taking a break from the chaos below to enough a quick meal. She amusedly watched the tall lanky chief surgeon hunt for her. Knowing ‘Doc’ like she did, if he was actually willing to take her criticisms, then he was desperate to take off. After she finished her small meal, she flung the disposable chopstick at him as he stood in the middle of the room, searching for the mysterious place where Marissa had vanished to.
As the utensil collided with his ear, he rolled his eyes and glanced upward to be greeted with an obscene gesture, a thumb’s up, and finally a wave. ‘Doc’ nodded gratefully, hung up his blue ribbon trimmed white coat on the claw near the door, and hastily left the still swarmed room.
Marissa floated down from the research lab access shaft, scooping up the projectile chopstick. She stuffed the dishes in the one-way, waste blower column that carried waste to a recycling and treatment facility several levels away.
As Marissa made her rounds of the wounded crew members located in this particular medical bay, she remembered to count the blessing of living in the present. Recent decades have been excellent for medicine, almost eliminating all invasive procedures, except in emergency medicine, and those were exclusively handled by surgeons, leaving doctors to diagnose patients by simply choosing which tests to run.
Of course, Marissa’s medical background was more technical than most other nurses and doctors in the Valiant Confederation or the Empire. She remembered her grandfather, the previous doctor of the family, regaled them of having to insert tubes into peoples’ arteries to keep their hearts beating. Artificial organs revolutionized the industry and extended quality life two-fold. Age related diseases still proved incurable, with conflicting reports publish seasonally.
Absently making notes on charts of sleeping patients, she signaled to Stephen, the chief nurse, that she would be in her office if needed. Katsuro, just back from the enemy ship, slid into her path towards the office. He gently placed his hand on her hip and smiled.
Twenty minutes later, Stephen went looking for the doctor with something trivial, but was unable to find her and carried on anyway. No one had noticed the pair of officers slip out of the med center and move swiftly down the hall.