So this is a story I've been working on for a while. I will definitely be finishing more soon, but this is all I have so far. It's a semi-impressive eleven pages, so it's kind of a task to read. This isn't the kind of story that you skim through in a few minutes. While I'm anticipating some TL;DR, you can go **** yourself with a creeper-actus (A cactus made of creepers) if you're so lazy that you not only don't read it, but you post something saying how you couldn't read it because it is too long.
Feedback is appreciated, but not required. A simple "I liked it" is sufficient, although if you don't like it, I'd appreciate some constructive criticism here. Also, I hope this is in the right forum, because I have bad luck with this sort of thing :tongue.gif: Anyway, on to the story!
Gabrel groaned, struggling to sit up in the med bay of the drop ship. Two medics steadied him, blood trickling from the ragged hole in his Battlesuit. After a straining against their grip for a few seconds, he fell back onto the makeshift stretcher he was lying on. He coughed, his scarred face and sunken eyes visible once the medics had pulled his helmet off. Blood dripped from the edge of his mouth, leaving a small red pool beside his head.
“Colonel, I need to dock, No time for safety measures!” The driver yelled into a comm radio mounted in the dashboard of the light craft.
“No can do, Gray-6, you'll have to bring 'er around and use the medical dock,” A deep, rather gruff voice crackled over the speakers, unstable due to the few thousand miles still left between the drop ship and the Station. “we're already overloaded, we have no room in the primary hangars.”
“Damn it, he's in critical condition! We don't have time to follow through to the med docks! If he's gonna live, we'll have to land in the nearest hangar immediately!” The driver was sounding agitated now. Gabrel coughed, breathing more raggedly now. “C'mon, there must be something you can do?”
“I told you, docks aren't under my jurisdiction. You'd have to speak with the Stationmaster about that, and he's already got his hands tied with the battlecruisers already landing.” The voice was clearer now, the Station only a few hundred miles away. The driver tugged off her helm, shaking her head.
“No good, we'll have to bring it around.” Gabrel was struggling again, using up strength he didn't have to spare. The plasma had bored a hole straight through his chestplate, seeping into his flesh and stripping it to the bone. In the roughly foot wide hole in his battlesuit, his ribcage was exposed, singed black. If he hadn't been wearing the suit, the plasma would have gone right through to his heart.
“You're sure?” One of the medics inquired, grimly. The driver gave a short nod, turning to the second medic.
“Keep him stable. If I cut some corners we might get there.” The medic quickly saluted and went back to treating the Gabrel, who looked frighteningly pale. The Station was in clear view now. It was roughly circular, a large center pillar supporting three “prongs” that were triangular with an arcing edge to form the outline of a circle if you looked at the station from above or below. It orbited a gas giant situated in a deserted system, perfect for more covert military operations. The gas giant itself served as a cloak, as its large magnetic field emitted a peculiar signal that threw off radar waves.
Twice over it had saved the Station from the Hive's fleets. The first was due to a thruster malfunction on the last battlecruiser remaining in a savage ambush, sending it spiraling into the planet. The waves and lack of battlecruiser threw the fleet off course, diverting it just enough for the station to remain out of sight. The second save was recognized only when an excavation fleet discovered wreckage in which the disruption caused a radar malfunction in the targeting systems, causing a large battle between friendly Hive ships in a nearby patrol. The planet had also saved the Station numerous times by simply blocking ships from detecting it. It was a miracle that the planet gave off this signal, or the Station would have long since perished.
In a sweeping dive, the driver ducked a piece of orbiting debris and spun into a wide turn around and above the Station. The comm radio crackled to life. “This is bridge to Gray-6, we are detecting an anomaly, standby for inspection-”
“No time!-” The driver cut in, “-We have an injured officer. Now clear the med bay, we're delayed enough as it is.” She was determined to get into the bay before the Station crewman could respond. “Get that stretcher ready to move, ten seconds to landing!” She yelled over her shoulder, directed at the two medics. They nodded, pulling out stoppers and twisting on wheels on to the stretcher. They popped it off the ground and folded out the movement grips. They nodded, signaling they were ready. She accelerated too quickly, absent minded as she was worried about Gabrel.
“This is a direct order from a superior, you are to await inspection before-” The colonel tried to command her to stop, but she interrupted.
“A bit too la-” The comm radio cut out as the ship dove through the bay shielding. It was maintained by a magnetic field strong enough to give artificial gravity and stave off vacuum. At a higher speed than was suggested or allowed, it had cut the power to the comm radio, and possibly the engine. “Hold that stretcher! Brace for a hard landing!” The landing gear deployed in the nick of time, sending them skidding and sliding, almost into the far wall. It was a wonder they didn't collide with any crew, or ships, and the driver sighed with relief as they came to a halt. The medics shook off the impact and began hastily dragging the stretcher off the ship.
The driver flinched as she saw two ship officers marching towards the ship, and they didn't so much as glance at the two medics. She stood and saluted, nervously.
“The colonel wants to see you. Come with us. Now.” The left officer fingered his concussion pistol, a weapon adept at subduing targets it didn't kill outright. It operated on a blast wave produced by an inner core in the shots, which could burst organs and shatter bone. It was the favored weapon of police and non-combat military personnel, capable of dealing damage even with an inaccurate or off target shots. The driver knew this and kept a non offensive stance.
“Well, why would he... Uh... Want to do that?” She asked, innocently.
“Cut the crap, you know perfectly well, Arin. You nearly splattered fifty crewmen.” The officer was definitely direct. And right. Arin nodded, stepping forward so she was only a few feet from the officers. The one on the right grabbed her shoulder roughly, spinning her around and grabbing a piece of equipment from his own hip. Arin grimaced as she felt the uncomfortable buzz of the shackles, binding her wrists in place firmly behind her back. With a small click he unlatched the holster of her own concussion pistol, tugging it out and tucking into his belt. With a nod to the other officer he pulled her arm, gesturing towards door to the bay.
“You know, I understand the escort, but are the shackles really necessary?” Arin asked, less curious than looking for some conversation.
“Standard procedure, you know that.” One of the officers said, shortly. He obviously wasn't looking for conversation. Arin went back to walking. They were marching through the bustling and confusing corridors of the lower portions of the station, approaching the carrier that would bring them to the central pillar. They were moving at a brisk pace, getting a few stares from passing crew members and patrolling marines, but going otherwise unnoticed among the busy halls.
With a shove, Arin was sent forward into the small passenger space of the carrier, one officer settling in across from her while the other turned to the control panel. With the push of a few buttons and a quick fingerprint scan, the door slid shut with a quiet hiss and the carrier shifted forward. Out the observation window, Arin noted that they were heading directly to the bridge. Guess there's no wasting time with these guys, she thought. She sighed, before turning her gaze to the dull metal flooring of the carrier, knowing that whatever fate was coming to her, it wouldn't be good.
With a lurch, the carrier slowed, gliding into a small docking area. With another hiss, the doors slid open smoothly, and the nearer officer pulled Arin to her feet. With a slight hum and a click, her shackles released, and she rubbed her aching wrists. Almost before she could take in the surroundings, she drew into a hasty salute, face to face with the colonel.
“Arin.” He said, acknowledging her.
“Colonel Mags.” She replied, coolly.
“I hope you realize why you're here.”
“How could I not? And if I didn't, your two officers here were happy to provide an explanation.” Arin looked around the bridge, where about two dozen crew officers typed away at control panels and examined system statuses. Several armed marines also dotted the room, ready to intercept any threat the young driver might somehow create. She returned her attention to the Mags as he spoke again.
“If that's the case, then you know perfectly well that the proper action must be taken against you.” He spoke calmly, but she could tell that he was surprised and angry at her actions.
“I trust you didn't want Gabrel to die? If I hadn't gotten him here quickly he would be gone by-” She was cut off.
“That reckless stunt of yours was more likely to kill him than his injuries, and we could have lost some of our less reckless crewmen if you had been unlucky enough to hit one. This is a serious infraction, I could have your license revoked, not to mention a hefty jail sentence.” His anger was starting to show through. Arin had been reckless, she knew. But hey, if she didn't kill anyone, why worry about what would of happened if she did? But, she knew that wasn't the case. She knew that what she had done was stupid.
“Colonel, I was just doing it for the good of Gabrel. If I had known this was the outcome, I never would have been so careless...”
“It's too late for that, Arin. We both know what's coming, taking it up to trial is just a formality. As for now, you are restricted to the crew quarters and the mess hall, you're suspended from service. Return to your room and await further news on you're situation. Dismissed.”
“Yes sir...” Arin said, hanging her head as she turned. The officers followed her to the carrier, one giving her a small salute as she stepped into it. She gave a weak nod in return as the doors shut once more. She entered the codes for the crew quarters and sat in one of the chairs. “You really blew it this time, Arin...” She said to herself, quietly. Once the doors opened for her departure, she stepped through, slowly moving back to her cabin. This whole ordeal had tired her out. She just wanted some sleep, and who knows, maybe this was all just a horrible dream. Somebody pinch me... She thought to herself, sighing as she entered her rooms code into the lock panel.
She wearily stepped through, the door sliding shut again behind her. The bed looked so inviting. With a short yawn she dropped onto it. “This... Feels... Great...” And she was asleep.
Slowly opening her eyes, Arin let in the dull light of the overhead lamp flood in. She sat up, stretching. For a brief moment, she felt great. Then, she remember the events of the previous day. She almost felt like crying now, remembering how she was going to have her pilot's license suspended and likely get discharged from service. Then she remembered Gabrel.
As she pushed herself to her feet, her worry intensified. His injuries had been pretty serious, and even with her hasty landing it wasn't guaranteed that he would make it. In fact, there wasn't even a great chance. She walked through the door at a fast pace, heading for the medical wing. Then she remembered her restriction. She was to remain in the crew quarters, unless under outstanding circumstances. She wasn't going to get herself shot just to see how Gabrel was doing, that was for sure. With a deep, depressed sigh she returned to her room. It was all she could do at the moment.
A few monotonous days had passed since her incident. She sat on her bed, listening to a audio tape on “The Varied Genus of the Eredim System”. In the middle of an absolutely riveting lecture on the feeding habits of the carnivorous Glarn, a holotape dropped into the mail slot. Arin clicked off the lecture, standing up and pacing towards the tape. After a short hesitation, she picked it up and brought it back to the bed. With a small click she activated it.
A female figure appeared, dressed in a formal military judge's robe. Of course, it wasn't actually a person, but a recorded message projected using gasses in the air to display a three dimensional image. The figure began to speak. “Flight Lieutenant Arin Farael, born on Earth and trained in the Centauri Pilot Academy. I, Council Judge Gwendel Sharn, find you guilty of reckless endangerment of military personnel and property. You're pilot's license in hereby revoked, and you will receive a dishonorable discharge from military service shortly. A shuttle will arrive shortly thereafter to return you to your home world of Earth. Military officers will be arriving shortly to pack your things and bring you to the colonel for your discharge. Farewell.” The holotape shut off with another click, and Arin was tempted to throw it across the room. It was inevitable, she knew, but that did little to lessen the blow. There was a knock on her door.
“This is Advance Sergeant Gabrel, open up!” Arin nearly jumped, she was surprised. Gabrel must be OK, after all!
“Be right there!” She tossed a few necessities into her bag and opened the door. Gabrel stood, in full suit. Two massive shoulder plates rested, covering his neck, and cut off at about halfway down the upper arm. Heavy plates covered the forearm, a set of armored gloves pulled over hit hands. The leg armor was nondescript, heavy plating and knee guards, and the boots looked like they weighed at least fifty pounds. It was a standard military battlesuit, except for the chestplate. The chestplate was patched up and reinforced, with a dully shining gray metal instead of the navy blue of the rest of the suit. With the push of a button the massive figure released the tinting on his visor and looked down on Arin.
“Arin? You're the one I'm bringing to the bridge? What... what did you do, why are you being discharged?” He was genuinely surprised.
“Yea... Long story. But, I did it to save you...” Arin was suddenly more ashamed of herself than ever. She felt like crawling into a corner all of the sudden, under the gaze of her longtime friend.
“All I heard was something about reckless flying and an anomaly. They said it looked like a receiver unit, although they don't know what signal it's supposed to pick up.” He seemed sad. It was only natural, his friend was being sent out of the service, and all because he had to go and get himself shot. He remembered getting hit, and vaguely recalled the ship hurtling through into the med bay. “Well, we should get going...”
Arin nodded. She stepped out through the doorway and sighed as she heard it slide behind her for the last time. She trudged on behind Gabrel, walking through the familiar corridors of the station. They halted at the carrier, Gabrel stepping aside to let her board first. She nodded and stepped in, sitting once again.
The trip was uneventful, and they arrived without any fuss. Arin stepped out into the bridge, to the gaze of the Colonel. He nodded, stepped forward, and pulled up an index card. With a nod, be brought it back down and faced her.
“Flight Lieutenant Arin Farael, for your crimes against the military you are hereby discharged from service, and you're license is revoked. You are to board the shuttle and return to your home planet immediately... Hmm... Well, that's all that you don't know. I guess you'll be off now...” Arin was surprised at the shortness of this ceremony. But, then again, they had already covered everything else that was to be known. With a curt nod, the colonel gestured back to the carrier. Before anyone could say anything, however, there was a deep rumble. Everyone in the room looked around, alert. A voice piped up from one of the many observation stations.
“Sir, we are picking up an unknown signal from coordinates-” Arin, as well as all the others who were standing, was thrown off her feet. The station shook violently, a distant boom sounding through the bridge.
Chapter Two: The Hive
“Uh, picking up multiple hostile pings, all within attack range. Scanning for ping origin...”
“Hostile boarding craft approaching!”
“Detecting breach in sector three of the refueling deck!”
A plethora more voices erupted from the bridge, as an alarm began to sound. Mags approached a nearby crewman and shouted to him. “What the hell is going on! What are those pings!”
“Looks like a Hive Fleet. A least one Bombardment Class cruiser and several Assault Class. Seven hull breaches detected, likely caused by boarding craft. It looks like the Bombardment Class severed connection to the refueling station.” He turned away, typing furiously away at the panels, eyes scanning over the rapidly incoming data, none of it good. The Colonel returned to his station, flipping on a microphone.
“This is Colonel Mags. All military personnel are to report to battle stations immediately! Get those interceptors in the air, we need all the firepower we can get! Non-essential crew members are to report to evac bays one through nine, refer to escape charts for your bay! Station is on combat alert Alpha, I repeat, station is on combat alert Alpha!” He turned away from the mic. “You, Arin, looks like you're gonna get to fly again. Get down to the combat hangars, you'll get further direction there!”
“Yes sir!” Arin nodded, she set off at a jog to the carrier, hastily punching in some codes. She was off to the combat hangers, ready to fly again. That's when everything went wrong. Now that she was outside the station she could see what they were facing. The hulking, sleek black figure of the Bombardment Class cruiser loomed over the station, unleashing bright blue bolts of plasma into the station's defenses. Most were intercepted, but many still made it through. She groaned as a bolt slammed into the crew quarters, likely obliterating thousands of crew members. Hundreds of dogfights were going on between their interceptors and the Hive Fleet's boarding craft. After what felt like an eternity of watching the destruction going on in the distance, she reached the combat hangar.
“Here, put this on!” A marine thrust a combat suit into her arms. It was standard for combat pilots, a little heavier than her normal flight suit. It had several hardened plates in key areas, but otherwise maintained mobility. She slid the helmet on, nodding as it sealed around her neck, vacuum proof. “Come with me!” the marine yelled over the surrounding noise. Arin jogged after him to one of their own boarding craft. “Gray six, you're following gray four and five into the bay of one of their Assault Cruisers! You have thirty souls on board, don't waste them. If you crash this time, you're not coming back!” He gave her a rough pat on the back and shoved her towards her craft, before jogging back to his position at the carrier dock.
With much anticipation she stepped into the driver's cabin of the carrier, looking at the suddenly foreign controls. I can't do this! She though, sweating in her suit. But as soon as she touched the controls, it all came back to her. With the roar of ignition, the thrusters primed, ready to fire. The launcher track clicked into place, ticking back until they were about two hundred meters from the exit to the hangar. Then, with a massive rush, they were sent lurching forward into open space. The flight was almost ruined before it began, as a plasma bolt roiled past the already moving ship to fizzle out in deep space. With the shift of a gear, the thrusters roared to life, sending the ship hurtling forward.
The display showed the Assault Carrier, closing quickly as the boarding craft hurtled forward, and the two accompanying ships racing towards the same target. A voice crackled over the comm.
“Alright, slow thrusters in three... Two... One...” Arin eased the stick forward, and the craft smoothly slowed down. “Prepare to dock, combat personnel ready weapons!” The three ships flew through the bay forcefield. Just as the soldiers in Gray four began to unload, a nearby fighter blew it to bits. A few soldiers made it out, firing futilely on the fighter. That was when gray six passed in, sending a ionized rocket straight through the enemy ship, and the ground troops cheered as it blew apart, sending scraps falling in the artificial gravity.
Before they could properly celebrate, however, Hive Warriors emerged from the back of the bay, weapons already flinging balls of plasma towards the marines. They threw themselves behind the wreckage of their craft, one unlucky marine falling in a crumpled heap as a bolt sizzled through his armor. As gray five was touching down, Arin's own ship passed through the barrier. The battle was raging now, plasma bolts from the Hive warriors and shots flying from the marines' accelerator rifles. Several from each side were already dead or dying, but the opposition wouldn't stand a chance once Arin got her troops unloaded. Now that she was close enough she would finally get a good look at the warriors. They were roughly human in shape, though they were much taller. They were clad in black battle armor, formed to their figures and shining in the dull light of the hangar. Their blood was a darker red than human blood, Arin observed from the pooling stuff under the dead Hive warriors. They wore sleek helmets with pitch black visors, obscuring their facial features. Not an inch of skin was exposed. Already her own troops were streaming past her, taking up what limited cover there was. Arin shrieked and dived down under the dashboard of the ship as a stray plasma bolt burned a hole through the window. It sizzled into the seat, right where her head had been. She grabbed the accelerator rifle from the top of the driver's cabin, popping the door open and jumping out. Another plasma bolt hurtled past, singeing the metal of her helmet. This was dangerous, more dangerous that anything she had done before. People were dying here. Not that she hadn't seen death, but this was widespread. At least a dozen marines lay sprawled, life having left their bodies. She quickly sprinted to gray five's ship, huddling behind it for cover from the volley of plasma flying towards her.
“Arin, what the hell are you doing!?” A nearby sergeant shouted agitatedly at her over the din of combat.
“They blew a hole through my display! Not going into vacuum with damage like that!” Arin shouted back, still crouched. The sergeant turned and shouted at a nearby soldier, who wore an engineer's suit. He nodded and crept over to the damaged craft. The sergeant turned back to her. “Alright, you're with us for now! The engineer will fix your ship up while we finish the objective! Just stay back, and keep your head down!” Arin nodded, comprehending.
The noise was gone now, most of the warriors dead or dying. Most of the marines were emerging from their cover, mopping up the remaining enemies with little difficulty.
“Move up!” a lieutenant shouted at the marines. In a semi-organized formation they jogged up to the platform at the back of the bay, lining up for further instructions. A few checked the area for Hive scum waiting in ambush, but it thankfully turned up nothing. As they hustled back to the main body of troops, the lieutenant spoke up.
“Alright, marines! For those who don't know me,” he eyed Arin at this point, pausing slightly, “I am Lieutenant Devon! I'm in charge of this attack! We need to find the core reactor of this hunk of metal and blow it to hell! And the more of the alien bastards we blow to hell with it, the better! Am I right marines!?” An enthusiastic “Hoorah!” rose up from the crowd of soldiers. Devon let them finish their cheer before continuing. “Spencer, Travisson, Silvers, Rybo! You're with me! Nico, Halle, Green...”
For a few more minutes Devon shouted out names and the respective soldiers stepped forward. After it was over the marines were separated into four groups: Steel Team, Silver Team, Gold Team, and Iron Team. The lieutenant turned to Arin now.
“Pilot, stick with Steel Team. Steel Team, protect the pilot at all costs!” An affirmative “Yes, sir!” or simply a nod came from the marines assigned to Steel Team, and Arin jogged over to them. It was going to be tougher than before from here, she knew. But, she was ready, and that was enough.
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Well, that's it so far. More will be posted eventuallysoon, so stay tuned. Once again, I appreciate feedback from those kind and patient enough to read through it. Also, if there are some seemingly useless plot devices, those will be taken care of in later parts. These are just the first eleven pages, which is pretty much the exposition, so hold your horses if your gonna talk about how "Blah blah didn't do anything" and how "Bleh bleh served no purpose." Lordraymond out! (For now)
Feedback is appreciated, but not required. A simple "I liked it" is sufficient, although if you don't like it, I'd appreciate some constructive criticism here. Also, I hope this is in the right forum, because I have bad luck with this sort of thing :tongue.gif: Anyway, on to the story!
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Gabrel groaned, struggling to sit up in the med bay of the drop ship. Two medics steadied him, blood trickling from the ragged hole in his Battlesuit. After a straining against their grip for a few seconds, he fell back onto the makeshift stretcher he was lying on. He coughed, his scarred face and sunken eyes visible once the medics had pulled his helmet off. Blood dripped from the edge of his mouth, leaving a small red pool beside his head.
“Colonel, I need to dock, No time for safety measures!” The driver yelled into a comm radio mounted in the dashboard of the light craft.
“No can do, Gray-6, you'll have to bring 'er around and use the medical dock,” A deep, rather gruff voice crackled over the speakers, unstable due to the few thousand miles still left between the drop ship and the Station. “we're already overloaded, we have no room in the primary hangars.”
“Damn it, he's in critical condition! We don't have time to follow through to the med docks! If he's gonna live, we'll have to land in the nearest hangar immediately!” The driver was sounding agitated now. Gabrel coughed, breathing more raggedly now. “C'mon, there must be something you can do?”
“I told you, docks aren't under my jurisdiction. You'd have to speak with the Stationmaster about that, and he's already got his hands tied with the battlecruisers already landing.” The voice was clearer now, the Station only a few hundred miles away. The driver tugged off her helm, shaking her head.
“No good, we'll have to bring it around.” Gabrel was struggling again, using up strength he didn't have to spare. The plasma had bored a hole straight through his chestplate, seeping into his flesh and stripping it to the bone. In the roughly foot wide hole in his battlesuit, his ribcage was exposed, singed black. If he hadn't been wearing the suit, the plasma would have gone right through to his heart.
“You're sure?” One of the medics inquired, grimly. The driver gave a short nod, turning to the second medic.
“Keep him stable. If I cut some corners we might get there.” The medic quickly saluted and went back to treating the Gabrel, who looked frighteningly pale. The Station was in clear view now. It was roughly circular, a large center pillar supporting three “prongs” that were triangular with an arcing edge to form the outline of a circle if you looked at the station from above or below. It orbited a gas giant situated in a deserted system, perfect for more covert military operations. The gas giant itself served as a cloak, as its large magnetic field emitted a peculiar signal that threw off radar waves.
Twice over it had saved the Station from the Hive's fleets. The first was due to a thruster malfunction on the last battlecruiser remaining in a savage ambush, sending it spiraling into the planet. The waves and lack of battlecruiser threw the fleet off course, diverting it just enough for the station to remain out of sight. The second save was recognized only when an excavation fleet discovered wreckage in which the disruption caused a radar malfunction in the targeting systems, causing a large battle between friendly Hive ships in a nearby patrol. The planet had also saved the Station numerous times by simply blocking ships from detecting it. It was a miracle that the planet gave off this signal, or the Station would have long since perished.
In a sweeping dive, the driver ducked a piece of orbiting debris and spun into a wide turn around and above the Station. The comm radio crackled to life. “This is bridge to Gray-6, we are detecting an anomaly, standby for inspection-”
“No time!-” The driver cut in, “-We have an injured officer. Now clear the med bay, we're delayed enough as it is.” She was determined to get into the bay before the Station crewman could respond. “Get that stretcher ready to move, ten seconds to landing!” She yelled over her shoulder, directed at the two medics. They nodded, pulling out stoppers and twisting on wheels on to the stretcher. They popped it off the ground and folded out the movement grips. They nodded, signaling they were ready. She accelerated too quickly, absent minded as she was worried about Gabrel.
“This is a direct order from a superior, you are to await inspection before-” The colonel tried to command her to stop, but she interrupted.
“A bit too la-” The comm radio cut out as the ship dove through the bay shielding. It was maintained by a magnetic field strong enough to give artificial gravity and stave off vacuum. At a higher speed than was suggested or allowed, it had cut the power to the comm radio, and possibly the engine. “Hold that stretcher! Brace for a hard landing!” The landing gear deployed in the nick of time, sending them skidding and sliding, almost into the far wall. It was a wonder they didn't collide with any crew, or ships, and the driver sighed with relief as they came to a halt. The medics shook off the impact and began hastily dragging the stretcher off the ship.
The driver flinched as she saw two ship officers marching towards the ship, and they didn't so much as glance at the two medics. She stood and saluted, nervously.
“The colonel wants to see you. Come with us. Now.” The left officer fingered his concussion pistol, a weapon adept at subduing targets it didn't kill outright. It operated on a blast wave produced by an inner core in the shots, which could burst organs and shatter bone. It was the favored weapon of police and non-combat military personnel, capable of dealing damage even with an inaccurate or off target shots. The driver knew this and kept a non offensive stance.
“Well, why would he... Uh... Want to do that?” She asked, innocently.
“Cut the crap, you know perfectly well, Arin. You nearly splattered fifty crewmen.” The officer was definitely direct. And right. Arin nodded, stepping forward so she was only a few feet from the officers. The one on the right grabbed her shoulder roughly, spinning her around and grabbing a piece of equipment from his own hip. Arin grimaced as she felt the uncomfortable buzz of the shackles, binding her wrists in place firmly behind her back. With a small click he unlatched the holster of her own concussion pistol, tugging it out and tucking into his belt. With a nod to the other officer he pulled her arm, gesturing towards door to the bay.
“You know, I understand the escort, but are the shackles really necessary?” Arin asked, less curious than looking for some conversation.
“Standard procedure, you know that.” One of the officers said, shortly. He obviously wasn't looking for conversation. Arin went back to walking. They were marching through the bustling and confusing corridors of the lower portions of the station, approaching the carrier that would bring them to the central pillar. They were moving at a brisk pace, getting a few stares from passing crew members and patrolling marines, but going otherwise unnoticed among the busy halls.
With a shove, Arin was sent forward into the small passenger space of the carrier, one officer settling in across from her while the other turned to the control panel. With the push of a few buttons and a quick fingerprint scan, the door slid shut with a quiet hiss and the carrier shifted forward. Out the observation window, Arin noted that they were heading directly to the bridge. Guess there's no wasting time with these guys, she thought. She sighed, before turning her gaze to the dull metal flooring of the carrier, knowing that whatever fate was coming to her, it wouldn't be good.
With a lurch, the carrier slowed, gliding into a small docking area. With another hiss, the doors slid open smoothly, and the nearer officer pulled Arin to her feet. With a slight hum and a click, her shackles released, and she rubbed her aching wrists. Almost before she could take in the surroundings, she drew into a hasty salute, face to face with the colonel.
“Arin.” He said, acknowledging her.
“Colonel Mags.” She replied, coolly.
“I hope you realize why you're here.”
“How could I not? And if I didn't, your two officers here were happy to provide an explanation.” Arin looked around the bridge, where about two dozen crew officers typed away at control panels and examined system statuses. Several armed marines also dotted the room, ready to intercept any threat the young driver might somehow create. She returned her attention to the Mags as he spoke again.
“If that's the case, then you know perfectly well that the proper action must be taken against you.” He spoke calmly, but she could tell that he was surprised and angry at her actions.
“I trust you didn't want Gabrel to die? If I hadn't gotten him here quickly he would be gone by-” She was cut off.
“That reckless stunt of yours was more likely to kill him than his injuries, and we could have lost some of our less reckless crewmen if you had been unlucky enough to hit one. This is a serious infraction, I could have your license revoked, not to mention a hefty jail sentence.” His anger was starting to show through. Arin had been reckless, she knew. But hey, if she didn't kill anyone, why worry about what would of happened if she did? But, she knew that wasn't the case. She knew that what she had done was stupid.
“Colonel, I was just doing it for the good of Gabrel. If I had known this was the outcome, I never would have been so careless...”
“It's too late for that, Arin. We both know what's coming, taking it up to trial is just a formality. As for now, you are restricted to the crew quarters and the mess hall, you're suspended from service. Return to your room and await further news on you're situation. Dismissed.”
“Yes sir...” Arin said, hanging her head as she turned. The officers followed her to the carrier, one giving her a small salute as she stepped into it. She gave a weak nod in return as the doors shut once more. She entered the codes for the crew quarters and sat in one of the chairs. “You really blew it this time, Arin...” She said to herself, quietly. Once the doors opened for her departure, she stepped through, slowly moving back to her cabin. This whole ordeal had tired her out. She just wanted some sleep, and who knows, maybe this was all just a horrible dream. Somebody pinch me... She thought to herself, sighing as she entered her rooms code into the lock panel.
She wearily stepped through, the door sliding shut again behind her. The bed looked so inviting. With a short yawn she dropped onto it. “This... Feels... Great...” And she was asleep.
Slowly opening her eyes, Arin let in the dull light of the overhead lamp flood in. She sat up, stretching. For a brief moment, she felt great. Then, she remember the events of the previous day. She almost felt like crying now, remembering how she was going to have her pilot's license suspended and likely get discharged from service. Then she remembered Gabrel.
As she pushed herself to her feet, her worry intensified. His injuries had been pretty serious, and even with her hasty landing it wasn't guaranteed that he would make it. In fact, there wasn't even a great chance. She walked through the door at a fast pace, heading for the medical wing. Then she remembered her restriction. She was to remain in the crew quarters, unless under outstanding circumstances. She wasn't going to get herself shot just to see how Gabrel was doing, that was for sure. With a deep, depressed sigh she returned to her room. It was all she could do at the moment.
A few monotonous days had passed since her incident. She sat on her bed, listening to a audio tape on “The Varied Genus of the Eredim System”. In the middle of an absolutely riveting lecture on the feeding habits of the carnivorous Glarn, a holotape dropped into the mail slot. Arin clicked off the lecture, standing up and pacing towards the tape. After a short hesitation, she picked it up and brought it back to the bed. With a small click she activated it.
A female figure appeared, dressed in a formal military judge's robe. Of course, it wasn't actually a person, but a recorded message projected using gasses in the air to display a three dimensional image. The figure began to speak. “Flight Lieutenant Arin Farael, born on Earth and trained in the Centauri Pilot Academy. I, Council Judge Gwendel Sharn, find you guilty of reckless endangerment of military personnel and property. You're pilot's license in hereby revoked, and you will receive a dishonorable discharge from military service shortly. A shuttle will arrive shortly thereafter to return you to your home world of Earth. Military officers will be arriving shortly to pack your things and bring you to the colonel for your discharge. Farewell.” The holotape shut off with another click, and Arin was tempted to throw it across the room. It was inevitable, she knew, but that did little to lessen the blow. There was a knock on her door.
“This is Advance Sergeant Gabrel, open up!” Arin nearly jumped, she was surprised. Gabrel must be OK, after all!
“Be right there!” She tossed a few necessities into her bag and opened the door. Gabrel stood, in full suit. Two massive shoulder plates rested, covering his neck, and cut off at about halfway down the upper arm. Heavy plates covered the forearm, a set of armored gloves pulled over hit hands. The leg armor was nondescript, heavy plating and knee guards, and the boots looked like they weighed at least fifty pounds. It was a standard military battlesuit, except for the chestplate. The chestplate was patched up and reinforced, with a dully shining gray metal instead of the navy blue of the rest of the suit. With the push of a button the massive figure released the tinting on his visor and looked down on Arin.
“Arin? You're the one I'm bringing to the bridge? What... what did you do, why are you being discharged?” He was genuinely surprised.
“Yea... Long story. But, I did it to save you...” Arin was suddenly more ashamed of herself than ever. She felt like crawling into a corner all of the sudden, under the gaze of her longtime friend.
“All I heard was something about reckless flying and an anomaly. They said it looked like a receiver unit, although they don't know what signal it's supposed to pick up.” He seemed sad. It was only natural, his friend was being sent out of the service, and all because he had to go and get himself shot. He remembered getting hit, and vaguely recalled the ship hurtling through into the med bay. “Well, we should get going...”
Arin nodded. She stepped out through the doorway and sighed as she heard it slide behind her for the last time. She trudged on behind Gabrel, walking through the familiar corridors of the station. They halted at the carrier, Gabrel stepping aside to let her board first. She nodded and stepped in, sitting once again.
The trip was uneventful, and they arrived without any fuss. Arin stepped out into the bridge, to the gaze of the Colonel. He nodded, stepped forward, and pulled up an index card. With a nod, be brought it back down and faced her.
“Flight Lieutenant Arin Farael, for your crimes against the military you are hereby discharged from service, and you're license is revoked. You are to board the shuttle and return to your home planet immediately... Hmm... Well, that's all that you don't know. I guess you'll be off now...” Arin was surprised at the shortness of this ceremony. But, then again, they had already covered everything else that was to be known. With a curt nod, the colonel gestured back to the carrier. Before anyone could say anything, however, there was a deep rumble. Everyone in the room looked around, alert. A voice piped up from one of the many observation stations.
“Sir, we are picking up an unknown signal from coordinates-” Arin, as well as all the others who were standing, was thrown off her feet. The station shook violently, a distant boom sounding through the bridge.
“Uh, picking up multiple hostile pings, all within attack range. Scanning for ping origin...”
“Hostile boarding craft approaching!”
“Detecting breach in sector three of the refueling deck!”
A plethora more voices erupted from the bridge, as an alarm began to sound. Mags approached a nearby crewman and shouted to him. “What the hell is going on! What are those pings!”
“Looks like a Hive Fleet. A least one Bombardment Class cruiser and several Assault Class. Seven hull breaches detected, likely caused by boarding craft. It looks like the Bombardment Class severed connection to the refueling station.” He turned away, typing furiously away at the panels, eyes scanning over the rapidly incoming data, none of it good. The Colonel returned to his station, flipping on a microphone.
“This is Colonel Mags. All military personnel are to report to battle stations immediately! Get those interceptors in the air, we need all the firepower we can get! Non-essential crew members are to report to evac bays one through nine, refer to escape charts for your bay! Station is on combat alert Alpha, I repeat, station is on combat alert Alpha!” He turned away from the mic. “You, Arin, looks like you're gonna get to fly again. Get down to the combat hangars, you'll get further direction there!”
“Yes sir!” Arin nodded, she set off at a jog to the carrier, hastily punching in some codes. She was off to the combat hangers, ready to fly again. That's when everything went wrong. Now that she was outside the station she could see what they were facing. The hulking, sleek black figure of the Bombardment Class cruiser loomed over the station, unleashing bright blue bolts of plasma into the station's defenses. Most were intercepted, but many still made it through. She groaned as a bolt slammed into the crew quarters, likely obliterating thousands of crew members. Hundreds of dogfights were going on between their interceptors and the Hive Fleet's boarding craft. After what felt like an eternity of watching the destruction going on in the distance, she reached the combat hangar.
“Here, put this on!” A marine thrust a combat suit into her arms. It was standard for combat pilots, a little heavier than her normal flight suit. It had several hardened plates in key areas, but otherwise maintained mobility. She slid the helmet on, nodding as it sealed around her neck, vacuum proof. “Come with me!” the marine yelled over the surrounding noise. Arin jogged after him to one of their own boarding craft. “Gray six, you're following gray four and five into the bay of one of their Assault Cruisers! You have thirty souls on board, don't waste them. If you crash this time, you're not coming back!” He gave her a rough pat on the back and shoved her towards her craft, before jogging back to his position at the carrier dock.
With much anticipation she stepped into the driver's cabin of the carrier, looking at the suddenly foreign controls. I can't do this! She though, sweating in her suit. But as soon as she touched the controls, it all came back to her. With the roar of ignition, the thrusters primed, ready to fire. The launcher track clicked into place, ticking back until they were about two hundred meters from the exit to the hangar. Then, with a massive rush, they were sent lurching forward into open space. The flight was almost ruined before it began, as a plasma bolt roiled past the already moving ship to fizzle out in deep space. With the shift of a gear, the thrusters roared to life, sending the ship hurtling forward.
The display showed the Assault Carrier, closing quickly as the boarding craft hurtled forward, and the two accompanying ships racing towards the same target. A voice crackled over the comm.
“Alright, slow thrusters in three... Two... One...” Arin eased the stick forward, and the craft smoothly slowed down. “Prepare to dock, combat personnel ready weapons!” The three ships flew through the bay forcefield. Just as the soldiers in Gray four began to unload, a nearby fighter blew it to bits. A few soldiers made it out, firing futilely on the fighter. That was when gray six passed in, sending a ionized rocket straight through the enemy ship, and the ground troops cheered as it blew apart, sending scraps falling in the artificial gravity.
Before they could properly celebrate, however, Hive Warriors emerged from the back of the bay, weapons already flinging balls of plasma towards the marines. They threw themselves behind the wreckage of their craft, one unlucky marine falling in a crumpled heap as a bolt sizzled through his armor. As gray five was touching down, Arin's own ship passed through the barrier. The battle was raging now, plasma bolts from the Hive warriors and shots flying from the marines' accelerator rifles. Several from each side were already dead or dying, but the opposition wouldn't stand a chance once Arin got her troops unloaded. Now that she was close enough she would finally get a good look at the warriors. They were roughly human in shape, though they were much taller. They were clad in black battle armor, formed to their figures and shining in the dull light of the hangar. Their blood was a darker red than human blood, Arin observed from the pooling stuff under the dead Hive warriors. They wore sleek helmets with pitch black visors, obscuring their facial features. Not an inch of skin was exposed. Already her own troops were streaming past her, taking up what limited cover there was. Arin shrieked and dived down under the dashboard of the ship as a stray plasma bolt burned a hole through the window. It sizzled into the seat, right where her head had been. She grabbed the accelerator rifle from the top of the driver's cabin, popping the door open and jumping out. Another plasma bolt hurtled past, singeing the metal of her helmet. This was dangerous, more dangerous that anything she had done before. People were dying here. Not that she hadn't seen death, but this was widespread. At least a dozen marines lay sprawled, life having left their bodies. She quickly sprinted to gray five's ship, huddling behind it for cover from the volley of plasma flying towards her.
“Arin, what the hell are you doing!?” A nearby sergeant shouted agitatedly at her over the din of combat.
“They blew a hole through my display! Not going into vacuum with damage like that!” Arin shouted back, still crouched. The sergeant turned and shouted at a nearby soldier, who wore an engineer's suit. He nodded and crept over to the damaged craft. The sergeant turned back to her. “Alright, you're with us for now! The engineer will fix your ship up while we finish the objective! Just stay back, and keep your head down!” Arin nodded, comprehending.
The noise was gone now, most of the warriors dead or dying. Most of the marines were emerging from their cover, mopping up the remaining enemies with little difficulty.
“Move up!” a lieutenant shouted at the marines. In a semi-organized formation they jogged up to the platform at the back of the bay, lining up for further instructions. A few checked the area for Hive scum waiting in ambush, but it thankfully turned up nothing. As they hustled back to the main body of troops, the lieutenant spoke up.
“Alright, marines! For those who don't know me,” he eyed Arin at this point, pausing slightly, “I am Lieutenant Devon! I'm in charge of this attack! We need to find the core reactor of this hunk of metal and blow it to hell! And the more of the alien bastards we blow to hell with it, the better! Am I right marines!?” An enthusiastic “Hoorah!” rose up from the crowd of soldiers. Devon let them finish their cheer before continuing. “Spencer, Travisson, Silvers, Rybo! You're with me! Nico, Halle, Green...”
For a few more minutes Devon shouted out names and the respective soldiers stepped forward. After it was over the marines were separated into four groups: Steel Team, Silver Team, Gold Team, and Iron Team. The lieutenant turned to Arin now.
“Pilot, stick with Steel Team. Steel Team, protect the pilot at all costs!” An affirmative “Yes, sir!” or simply a nod came from the marines assigned to Steel Team, and Arin jogged over to them. It was going to be tougher than before from here, she knew. But, she was ready, and that was enough.
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Well, that's it so far. More will be posted
eventuallysoon, so stay tuned. Once again, I appreciate feedback from those kind and patient enough to read through it. Also, if there are some seemingly useless plot devices, those will be taken care of in later parts. These are just the first eleven pages, which is pretty much the exposition, so hold your horses if your gonna talk about how "Blah blah didn't do anything" and how "Bleh bleh served no purpose." Lordraymond out! (For now)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24HJnYoPKg0
The framing of this circle on the ground
Brings whirlwinds, tempests, thunder and lightning.