NaNo 2009 - Part 4

Sadly, way behind now. 20893/25008.

Also, changed sleepsuit into two words, and hyperthreading into quantum threading.



The frigates had already long departed by the time the Alexia’s solar array had been fully retracted. The radiation emitted from a sun’s fusion reaction is used to recharge energy packs and to reverse the ship’s own fusion reactor fuel. The entire ship was an energy-starved recycling plant, reusing the water and air and waste from the crew, using a fusion reactor whose heavier byproducts were used in the ship’s armor and the particle cannons.

With the dead commemorated, the fuel replenished, and repairs completed, even the captain conceded that it was time to return to the command group. The Alexia had been away from the Hiro for about twenty days, but the command group is generally stationary unless ordered or required to move. Even then, the command group generally drops a coded beacon to notify returning ships of the last course and heading.

With the captain rarely returning to the bridge, Marie and Jakob spent many hours rotating in the command chair. After the funeral, Marie had disappeared into the ship’s periphery for a few hours and never responded to any attempts to contact her, but she showed up on time for every one of her shifts.

Both of them were on the upper bridge for the hyperthreading, able to respond to any problems. Jakob, after clearing all stations, issued the order to jump. After the nauseating jerks subsided, the ship and crew emerged in the system that the Hiro group was located in.

A quick visual analysis of the surrounding space instantly revealed many things wrong. All but one of the frigates that accompanied the Hiro floated lifelessly in space. Flashes of light deep in the system, inaccessible by quantum thread, revealed the Hiro, battered, but still capable, exchanging blows with a standard Imperial vessel.

“Pirates!” exclaimed Jakob, as Marie slammed her pad, yelling, and “Emergency battle stations! Code red! Rescind, code red X! I repeat, code red X.”

The entire ship erupted in alarms and a violent red hue along all of the walls. “Get me statuses on the damaged ships! Identify the enemy vessels. I need the condition of the Hiro, as soon as possible,” demanded Commander Fields.

Jakob jumped into the rear module and without strapping in, powered up all of the stations. Only a few seconds behind, Marie mimicked his actions. Their eyes met and both thought what the captain had just said upon arriving, “Oh, shit.”

An exasperated sigh escaped Jakob’s lips as his systems began responding poorly. One by one his screens fell blank. Cries of protest were being heard from all parts of the bridge. Marie, activating only seconds later, scanned the command list for what she needed. “Execute SO8, codename lockout!”

Two lower bridge stations and Marie’s set up remained activated. “They have the access codes,” shouted Jakob, realizing what Marie had done. He quickly grabbed the portable access pad, slow as it was, and began shutting down the communications links and changing the codes.

Meanwhile, Marie had pieced out the weapons control from the block and was bringing the stations online. Mashing the button, she called down to the lower bridge, “We need PNP back on as soon as possible! Top priority!”

The two below acknowledged and within three minutes, more screens lit up as active as PNP had be secured and removed from the protective block. Marie began to fill out the commands necessary to navigate to the active combat, while Hanson was still working with the computer systems and the captain paced behind the command chair.

Magda called up from below, “Sir, we’re seeing more stations come active. At this rate I expect to be fully functional within four minutes, to make contact in twelve minutes, and be at full strength in fifteen minutes.”

The captain called back, “Affirmative.” Another minute passed and the captain decided to inform the whole crew, pressing the ‘All Call’ button, he stated clearly, “Attention crew members of the Alexia, this is Captain Clifford Reynolds speaking. We have successfully arrived to the Hiro’s last known system to find the Hiro command group has been damaged and disabled for many ships. We are preparing to engage the enemy, which is still firing on the Hiro, itself. Prepare for immediate combat, we will be entering the fray immediately.”

The captain was now sitting in the commander with his heart beats counting down the half seconds. Accelerating as fast as safe, the Alexia weaved and twisted through the rubble of meteors, shards of metal, and a few lifeless sailors. The scene of the current battle looked extremely grim for the Hiro and the last remaining intact frigate. Two ships bearing Imperial marking, hence only numbers, were devastating the larger command ship. While the command ship wasn’t defenseless, it consisted of more auxiliary crew than warriors, acting as a haven for trade, families, and science. The Imperial carrier, 207114, and a class C battleship, 14322, continued to lob volleys at the crippled command ship with each pass.

As time until engagement closed, the Alexia could see the most recent damage to the residential module had ruptured the hull, causing hundreds of personal effects to spill out into the vacuum of space. Jakob turned towards the captain and asked, “Sir, what’s the plan?”

The captain scowled, snarling, “We attack them. We destroy them. We will kill them all.”

Jakob continued, almost pleadingly. “Sir, we would be lucky to face just the carrier alive. We’re outgunned and…”

“Dammit Hanson!” interrupted Captain Reynolds. “Just do what I tell you! Attack, full on, all batteries.” He paused, obviously waiting for some response. “Well, do it! Now!”

“Sir, we’re not yet in range!” protested Jakob.

“Do it,” yelled the captain.

“Aye, sir,” replied the commander grudgingly. Entering a string of commands, he glanced back towards the command chair to find the captain staring intently at the monitors. Typing the word ‘execute’ into his long list, he sigh and sent the command.

Marie looked at him again in horror as she reviewed the incoming list. Turning towards him, she mouthed, ‘What are you doing?’ Jakob only sighed and shrugged. The Alexia erupted in fire, still distant from the nearer battleship, with many of the particle shots striking destroyed drones floating throughout the battlefield, sending them skating towards the active fight.

A second volley launched from the ship with more debris scattering about, as well as nineteen small mechanical suits. Jakob’s hasty plan had been set into action and now he couldn’t let anyone ruin it. Or else, he feared, add only more Confederate shrapnel to the region.

The first volley finally reached the battleship, with the small molecules simply bouncing off the hull of the ship and the fragile drones splintering into plates of metal and circuits. Marie called out, “Firing range in one minute. Full armament in three minutes.”

“Excellent,” muttered the captain, barely loud enough to be heard on the upper bridge. Addressing Marie, he ordered, “Fire one more volley, just at range, then we withhold fire. We’re going to heavy load the cannons and ram the battleship.”

“Rah.. ram, sir?” questioned Marie. “But, sir…”

“Why am I constantly questioned on my own damn ship?! Follow the order or I will put it in myself. We’re going to do our duty and save the Hiro.” The captain stood, looking picturesque, like the ancient admiral leading his ship into the mouth of a kraken.

Jakob reviewed the information about the Hiro on his screen. His sigh overlapped a ‘tsk’ escaping from Marie, who had been reviewing the same information. Once again, they met eyes, knowing, the Hiro was doomed.

Regardless of the outcome of the battle, the command ship has lost all of its recycling systems and modern ships no longer carried reserve quantities of air or water. The crew, if all were still alive, would exhaust their air supply within seven hours, because the whole module containing oxygen generation had been obliterated. The Alexia was the last sustainable, Confederate ship in the region, and the two officers would have to make sure it remained that way.

With the enemy ships now in range, the Alexia gunners aimed for the turrets on the attacking battleship. The volley steered clear of the drifting assault soldiers, who were very close to connecting with the battleship.

Jakob had set up a command protocol for what he saw as a high risk strategy, but the only one open to them, besides retreat. Marie announced the return of full weapons capability, with the captain barely registering her words. Instead he was intently focused on the ships blazing speed towards the battleship.

“One kilometer. Five hundred meters. Yes, almost… This will show you,” whispered the captain. Marie glanced towards Jakob, her faced wearing her doubts and apprehension.

Jakob’s heart dropped, as he prepared to issue the order. He knew this would be different from any other time he acted independently. Taking a deep breath, he began, “This is Commander Jakob Hanson, taking command of the situation. Execute emergency protocol JH star one, codename Blink.”

The captain’s jaw froze. “What are you doing, you li…” He began in an enraged roar.

However, Marie cut him off, “This is Commander Marie Fields. Confirming situational control for Commander Hanson. Execute emergency protocol MF star seven, codename Mute.”

Captain Reynolds clamped his mouth shut, scowling at both of them. Clenching his fists and jaw, the leader turned and swung his boot into the side of the command chair, bending it over about thirty degrees. He then stormed from the bridge, instilling a momentary silence in all of the lower bridge.

Marie closed her eyes briefly and exhaled. “Let’s live through this. Then we’ll see if we live afterwards.”

“Right. Okay,” said Jakob. “Let’s work a miracle. At one hundred meters, very over the battleship. I need a spread at these two cargo bays on the battleship. Then focus all attention on disrupting communication on the carrier. I need…”

“Relax, Commander. It’s covered. Just watch it unfold.”

The Alexia took a heavy batting from the battleship as it approach, still on a suicide vector. Abruptly the ship pulled away, spinning off towards the carrier and using all weapons on punching holes in the hull. Both primary targets, the cargo bays, had been breached and the nineteen soldiers that Jakob had ordered adrift only minutes ago flooded through the small opening and began fighting through the belly of the battleship. “Good luck Kasper…”

The Alexia shifted on a direct course towards the carrier. Unleashing all the long range weapons directly at the enemy bridge, the carrier was next to helpless to return fire, equipped with on the weakest weapons. However, the seventy manned fighters and two hundred drones that surrounded the Hiro had broken off and were in flight to defend the carrier. The battleship was also within firing range after making a swift swing from it’s heading towards the command ship.

The gunners, their spotters, and their loaders operated in a hurried panic. Protocol ‘Mute’ set enormous priority on the communications panels covering the carrier. The barrage from the battleship pounded into the aft of the Alexia, critically damaging the three primary engines. Once again the skill of the Confederacy’s gunners showed evident, the incoming small fighters were uncoordinated and the Alexia’s gunners were running at about ninety seven percent accuracy. Each shot rang out, sending another pilot to the great unknown.

“I want a heavy continuous pattern of fire at the carrier’s bridge,” ordered Jakob as he analyzed the near desperate situation.

“Aye, sir,” replied Marie, processing the commands. The enemy drones began to concentrate themselves in the firing path to form a small shield for the vessel.

The Alexia heaved violently again as another battleship volley collided with the ship’s rear and required the soldiers to use their nautical ‘sea legs’ to remain standing. Despite the battle damage, the valiant Alexia maintained their stream of fire depleting the area of drones and their wreckage, until a hail came from the carrier.

Opening the audio channel, Jakob heard, “This is carrier 207114. We surrender! Requesting you discontinue attack an allow us to leave the system.”

Marie winced slightly and shook her head. Jakob answered with a simple nod before transmitting, “All stations, target structural weak points. I want that carrier dismantled!”



Katsuro’s crew blew through the inner hatch of the cargo bay, bracing themselves for the following decompression as the hallway had all the air yanked out into space. His sub-team of ten ran towards the bridge’s shaft, as fast as their exosuits allowed. Expectedly, the entire corridor blocked itself with metal sheet to trap attackers and prevent complete loss of air.

Two GASSer specialists were with each sub-team, equipped with a ram and welding flame. The dividers fell to the attack squad, one by one, slowly but inevitably. After managing to cut through all of the dividers placed between them and the bridge, the squad found themselves in an eerily deserted hall.

Rounding the next corner, the invaders ran across a manned, mounted defense station. Quickly retreating out of sight, the group readied for a full on assault. Stealth was nearly impossible in close quarters, since the large metal frame hissed and scraped the floor as it moved. Katsuro took the bend first, charging the mounted gun as two underlings that followed him out laid down suppressive fire. Five of the remaining seven bolted across the three way intersection, attempting to circle around the fortified position.

Activating his Tesla blade, which was little more than a longer, sharper, and more charged stun baton, Commander Okado struck the mounted sound cannon, exploding rear of the machine, killing the operator. The resting, but unmounted, machine gun, whose design hadn’t changed much in centuries, opened fire on the rear gunners, but failed to penetrate the exosuit.

A final, fourth solider leveled a single use rocket and impacted Katsuro hard enough to send his exosuit screeching to a halt at his comrades feet. The three soldiers quickly abandoned the station and fell back, allowing the commander the few minutes he needed to get himself upright and check for damage.

“Alright,” said Katsuro over the metallic sounding communicators. “We need to eliminate that pocket of resistance. Meet up with the flanking team and storm the bridge. If everything goes similarly, the other team will be reaching the engine room in fifteen minutes, so move out!”

The five suited men proceeded cautiously down the winding hall, checking each room and hall for a defensive fortification, similar to before. Checking his rough schematic of the battleship, the commander ordered the unit to halt and wait for the reinforcements that had attempted to flank to fortified position. Three minutes past rendezvous, Katsuro ordered the party to intercept the missing group, taking a left at the four way intersection.

The distant echo of weapon’s fire quickened the group’s pace, with a near deafening squealing and crushing footstep. The unit put away their mini rail rifles, a small version of a rail gun capable of piercing a wall or body armor with amazing accuracy, and equipped their more controllable blasters. Pivoting the next corner at top speed, as well as tearing gashes into the metal floor, the troupe came upon a bunker occupied by at least twelve enemies.

The bunker was a square room with the surrounding corridor snaking around three sides. The protrusion was studded with loop holes, allowing for small cannons or rifles to jut from the structure, with the only entrance on the third side not directly facing down a hallway. As the mechanized armor rushed towards outpost, the wall erupted in a sheet of projectiles, pausing only for a round from the small cannon. The crew were forced back around the corner with only a minimal returned fire.

Katsuro breathed heavy, with his tough voice crackling from in the other exosuits, “Shit! We need to break that bunker. Do we have any sticky charges? Robert? Where’s Robert?”

The quick examination revealed only four men, including the commander, in the hall. Swearing again, he glanced around the corner towards the enemy position and saw the still, blackened exosuit of the demolitions expert. From the short distance and angle, Katsuro could guess what had happened. The volley of enemy cannon fire struck hard, but could be absorbed by the armor. Except when colliding with the fuel pack or face plate, the only two easy weak points in any armor. His cursory examination found shards of the transparent faceplate as close as their positions. ”Dammit,” cursed the commander again, before intoning a short prayer. “May you find peace now and stand proud before God and family.”

Looking his men in the eyes, one by one, their mission became clear. The constant training and vigilance to the group had programmed the men not to think twice about their actions, but to just go out and do it. Katsuro knew that later it would be called heroism if it worked or stupidity if it failed. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer, calm despite his heart thundering on adrenaline in his chest.

Each step, heartbeat, and thought felt like small eternities playing in slow motion to each soldier. Rounding the corner again, Katsuro charge at the fallen comrade, meeting the incoming wave of bullets head on. The armor was absorbing the small arms fire, making only the smallest of dents in the suit. The onslaught was like continuous gust of wind carrying stinging sleet into the commander, forcing him to lose a little of each gain in his footing.

The dash towards Robert was covered by the two marksmen at the corner. They had switched back to their penetrating rifles, although the bunker wall was dense enough to prevent the magnetic discs from penetrating. The last member of the split team shadowed Katsuro, who only paused at the corpse to scoop up the bag of demolitions, snatched the fallen by his shoulders and dragged the heavy frame around the corner.

Katsuro, on the other hand, did not turn around after claiming the bag. Instead, he continued the insane blitz towards the fortification. Tearing the bag he found the detonator and jammed it into a block of sticky explosive. Before he could aim his throw, he was floored in a concussive blast. A shrapnel cannon was more effective on crowds, acting like a large scale shotgun, but still possessed stupendous force. The attack had cracked his armor on a fault created by the rocket when they first boarded the vessel. With small, fractured pieces falling off as he stood up, his left arm from the shoulder was now exposed and unprotected. Pulling the palm sized charge from his gauntlet which remained on the ground, he flung it towards the loop holes and turned to shield himself from both the small arms fire and the following explosion. The team swarmed forward as the dust settled, quickly claiming the base and killing anyone in the bunker.

The split team rejoined to find that two of the other group had been killed in the attack on the bunker. Spending ten minutes to recuperate, the GASS team laid their three deceased together and using undamaged segments of the spent armors, they replaced the upper left section of Katsuro’s suit, restoring it to a sealed environment.

After the brief respite they began the bloody ascent to the bridge, ultimately claiming the battered battleship a victory.



Marissa was getting sick of patching up the crew constantly. She understood it was here job, but she did miss the easy days of working on the Hiro, where she only had deal with minor incidents and industrial accidents, not battle wounds every week. She knew that the ship had grow eerily quiet, with limited reports of additional wounded in the ship’s periphery. Most of the outer medic stations were under capacity and were unlikely to transfer any sailors to the main medical center.

She released a sigh of exhaustion as finished patching up another engineer who was wounded when the aft of the ship came under fire. Signing his release orders, she nodded at him dismissively, barely struggling with a tattered bedside manner.

Looking around the flurry of faces in the room, she called out, “Bed open!” Two nurses that were resting on the wall nearest the door sprang up, urgently moving a patient, who was strapped to a backboard floating in the low gravity, to the table. Unlike the previous small wound, this gunner had an energy cell explode in his hands as the ship had lurched under the barrage.

Doctor Deville’s initial prognosis was extremely poor. The Confederate had only one part of one hand left, with the rest being a depressing blackened mass and served to reassure Marissa that she would never be near those cursed guns. Almost two thirds of all the injuries were from people on duty working with the gunner teams or in power and propulsion.

She looked pleadingly at Marseilles, before steeling her face and robotically trying to save the sailor, wounded by the machines he volunteered to tend. ‘So much for the poster atmosphere of trade, innovation, and security. So much for what we signed up for. All we have is what we can do to stay alive.’ Dismissing the interfering thoughts from her mind, she couldn’t help but feel helpless in it all.



Jakob sat in the rigid, uncomfortable chair in the closet called the map room. He sat in the quiet of the small space, alone with the slow rise and fall of his chest and his lightly closed eyes, thinking and reflecting.

No matter what the future held, he knew to his deepest core that he had done what was required of him. The large scrolling list of all the dead, wounded, and missing weighed heavily on him, but less than having to override his commanding officer in a time of emergency. The mission was suicide, which wasn’t his problem. He knew that he would eventually have to surrender his life for the Empire or the Confederation, but to sacrifice everything for blind revenge was on the wire thin line between stupidity and insanity.

The first officer remembered a time when he first joined the ship. He had idolized the command style of Captain Reynolds, who always exerted a calm confidence, keeping his wits and morale up with a wry joke or few thought out words. In all of the past years, he had maintained the same jovial, father-like leadership style. After feeling like he knew the captain well during their service on the Alexia, he couldn’t fathom what caused the shift, on how two messages could have completely changed the man he had trusted, and why the captain felt unable to share the information with the commander.

A pounding on the door jarred the officer from his trance. He quickly disabled the large screen, which was still continuously updating and scrolling the ship damage, the other Confederate ships, and all the men and women killed or wounded.

Magda pushed open the hatch, her face set in a grim finality. “Sir, the captain wants to see you in his office as soon as possible.” She hesitated, obviously chewing the inside of her lip, before finally adding, “Regardless of what happened, sir. I think you did the right thing. Most of us do, down there. It was a hopeless battle and we came out all banged up, but still alive. And perhaps there’ll still be a way to help the Hiro.”

She searched his face for some sort of emotion or reaction and frowned when she found only impassive determination there. She then continued before returning to the bridge, “Good luck, Jakob.”

The hatch swung to a near close. Jakob stood, straightening his uniform, and went to the captain’s office, which as both a blessing and a curse was very close by. Knocking loudly on the direct access hatch, the captain asked him to come in.

Opening the door slowly, he entered the chamber. He found everything seemingly normal. The captain was at his desk, reviewing documents. There was no indication of the anger the captain showed on the bridge had followed him up the shaft or even still resided in him. However, Marie sat in the chair farthest from Jakob and her face had dropped a shade closer to white, which was quite pale for someone with fair skin, and glistened with a nervous sweat.

Jakob didn’t know if she had already spoken with the captain or if she was just as off put by his almost violently swinging moods. “Captain,” he began slowly, waiting to be interrupted, “You asked to see me, sir?”

“Aye, commander. Please have a seat next to Commander Fields and I’ll be with you shortly. I’m currently reviewing your analysis of the encounter,” answered the captain without removing his eyes from the tablet. Astounded by the evenness of the captain’s voice, he too nervously sat across from the captain’s desk. ‘His tone was closer to normal,’ thought Jakob, ‘but something was off, like a steely threat floated beneath every syllable. Small wonder why Marie is anxious.’

The captain spent a few more minutes reviewing the documents, when Jakob realized something and spoke up, “Sir, I never completed all of the reports for you…”

The captain finally looked up and gave a small smile, almost hidden within his goatee, “I know, commander. That doesn’t mean I can’t view the work in progress. But I think I’ve seen enough. Commander Hanson and Commander Fields, I appreciate your clear sense in duty in preventing me from executing my plan during this previous battle. I see now the folly of such a plan, because acting in haste I never thought to analyze the Hiro’s status. They honestly are, were, a much more capable vessel than we were. But commanders, this does not excuse your actions. You should have notified me on my mistake and not wrestled command from me. I’m still the captain of this ship, dammit!” He slammed fist in the desk, snarling.

Taking a brief few seconds to recompose himself, he forced the slight smile to return to his face and continued, “Your quick thinking, Commander Hanson, and your near flawless execution of the unpracticed plan, Commander Fields, was really something amazing. The maneuver was very similar to something they taught long ago, when massive fleet battles were more common than the smaller squadron fighting that we’re used to. It was called the ‘Hammer’ where you smash one selected target repeatedly, only striking others to remove them from your way… The protocol was abandon as too many ships foolishly attacked the center of a formation and were quickly engulfed. But this was back in the days of the Coalition, so a time before you were even born. In a time when people were really individuals and free…” The captain trailed off, his eyes searching the small computer that was resting on his desk.

“But in the end, what did it amount to, commanders?” He picked back up suddenly. “The Hiro and the whole command group are adrift, unable to be repaired and unlikely to be salvaged. We still don’t know the status of the battleship or who was in charge of these vessels and who ordered them here.”

The battleship still made Jakob highly concerned. Towards the end of the fight, it ceased to continue firing at the Alexia, suggesting that the assault squad succeeded, but the force could have taken the ship and damaged the communications system, damaged the engine, disabled the weapons system, or killed the entire command staff, leaving inexperienced operators at the chair. The options were endless, but likely didn’t change the rest of the options of the leadership of the Alexia.

There were a few hundred Confederate men, still alive, floating in space. The carrier’s crew was known to have been mostly eliminated, but the battleship’s staff was an unknown. With no way to support all of those men, the captain, and likely a few senior officers, would be involved on taking on selected portions of crew that they can carry and leave the rest adrift in space. He couldn’t help but wonder if it were better to die in combat or accident immediately, rather than linger on to die from wounds or suffocation or hunger. And it made it so much worse knowing that these men and women, these volunteers, were trying to live their life in what they thought was a safe environment and it would be their allies, their comrades instead of an enemy, that chose who would live and who would be left to fade. Any good soldier could rationalize killing or letting his enemy die, but the story is different if it were a friend. There were escape pods, life boats, but in deep space, they’d run out of rations and air floating in that great, cold darkness, instead of where they called home. Even more wrenching was that they would likely perished before the Alexia even had a chance to make repairs and leave the system. A beacon had been sent through a thread, but it was unknown if anyone would respond in time. Perhaps man was not meant to be in space; perhaps explorers never should have set foot on a single ship.

“Sir,” asked Marie, “What are your priorities, so we may save as many souls as possible from the Hiro command group?”

The captain frowned, “First, we must have complete information. I need you to finish your reports and to find out the status of the battleship. We may be able to effect repairs faster. And we may not have to doom the Hiro. You both are dismissed.”

The two commanders stood and turned towards the door, when the captain added, nonchalantly, “Oh, one more thing, if you ever attempt to override me on my ship again, I will kill you, personally. Do not cross me.” He smiled just a little wider and waved them on. The two grimaced and carried on, retreating down the access shaft.



Instead of returning to the bridge, the two traveled slowly to Marie’s room, saying very little to the crew that they past and nothing to each other. As they entered the dark room, Marie hit the button that was faintly glowing from across the room. Jakob turned and sealed the hatch, and as the final handle rotated closed, they both released a sigh of relief.

Marie sunk down to the floor next to her sleep suit. Her gravmag hummed loudly, as it adjusted the current throughout the suit to allow her to sit comfortably without drifting and wobbling. Jakob, on the other hand, sat in her only chair, the stool like one in front of her desk. Although she was the third in commander of the ship, Marie had the eighth largest room to herself, where lieutenants had to share the same three meter by four meter room. The captain had the largest room, with two slightly smaller quarters for visiting dignitaries, such as admirals or local government officials. Being so recently promoted to commander, she had not yet switched from the lieutenant commander’s room to the last commander’s suite, which only gained a few square centimeters in space, but were better designed for single occupant living. Commanders Hanson, Okado, and Deville had the other suites, with their seconds residing in rooms similar to this.

She also did not know if she would keep transfer, when time actually arose. She had spent years in this room, moving here to replace the fallen second officer over four years ago. She had slowly made it her own, with print outs of letters from Joshua and photos from when she still lived planetside. She even remembered trying to talk command into letting her paint the room, but they had refused, since the Alexia had a generally high turnover rate, with officers being promoting or falling in combat.

Pulling out two bottles of Quinzolo, a forty percent alcohol popular on the outer colony worlds, from her sea chest, she floated one towards Jakob. The bottle was notched down the side opposite the label and had a galvanized rubber stopper to allow the bottles to be easily stacked for space travel. The drink was potent and bitter, causing both to wince as they drank from their own bottles.

After the first swig, Marie pushed some of the neck length hair that had slipped in front of her eyes back behind her ear. She plugged the bottle and raised it, saying, “To the glorious death and those on their way to join them.”

Sealing his bottle, Jakob echoed mutely, “The glorious dead.” The both took a long drink from the heavy glass. “You know,” he began, “I really can’t guess what’s going on with our galaxy, but I think everything’s gone wrong. Very, very wrong…”

Marie frowned and nodded in agreement. “Drink,” she finally said, “drink, we have a lot of work to do and I don’t know if it should be done sober.”



Katsuro was alive, but that was about all that could be said. His group had been successful at taking the bridge without any additional fatalities, but there was no shortage of blood between the bunker they had taken and the bridge. The entire command staff had take up arms, which Katsuro thought was quite noble of them to commit suicide like that. Personal weapons had little effect on the seven strikers that had made it to the bridge. Unlike the Alexia, which used a tiered bridge system with master control stations and the command seat on the upper deck and individual stations arced around the protruding command structure, the battleship used a circular room, absent in directionality except for the only door. The command chair was dead center in the room and could swivel to monitor every crew member’s stations. The entire wall was blanketed with panels, and there was an inner circle of consoles, four master stations, as far as the commander could tell.

It is often said that the death of an officer was demoralizing to the rest of the forces. Katsuro didn’t know if it was true, but it definitely stunned them. His group had burst onto the bridge after mild fighting in the access ramp, not a shaft like on the Alexia, and the rail gun shot used to weaken the door had passed through and serendipitously connected with the captain of the battleship. Nearly flawless was the description that Katsuro would have given at that point. But many quick security personnel, plus a skirmish with five enemy armored units and a satchel full of grenades had left the entire bridge crew dead, most of the systems out, including communications, and a few in his team missing digits or limbs.

He now sat, exhausted. The passive gravity magnets in the armored suit allowed him to sink to the floor within the inner circle of the bridge. He noticed his allies doing the same, with only one still alert, patrolling in the small ramp that lead to the bridge. Tired and bleeding in his cracked metal suit, the commander drifted off, asleep.