I decided to write some crappy fanfic in parallel with a run through the game with the classic default ship and crew. It's slowed down my game to crawl, but it's been enjoyable thus far.
On a Wing and a Prayer
Prologue
Federation Border Station Karvost, Orpheus Sector
Admiral Pellew was desperate. After years patrolling the Mantis border, Jute Longstreet knew the look, even on a man who hid it as assiduously as Pellew. Longstreet stroked the rough beard he has accumulated during the months in the brig thoughtfully as the Admiral harrumphed and eyed the papers on his desk. Finally, Longstreet could bear the silence no longer.
“Admiral, we both know I’m not one to stand on ceremony. If the state of the station is anything to go by, I suspect time is a factor. I’ve got all the time in the world down in the brig, but you needn’t waste yours on my account.” Pellew grimaced, shifted his corpulent frame in his leather seat and exhaled with exasperation.
“Right you are Longstreet.” he muttered, “Given that time is of the essence, I’ll be brief; we’re taking you out of the brig, all charges are to be dropped, but only if you take this assignment.” The admiral brandished a holopad with Classified emblazoned across the access panel, blinking in angry, urgent red.
“Longstreet, the rebellion has taken the Rychus Sector. What’s more, almost as many Federation personnel defected as defended the sector. Their fleet will be jumping into our sector within days. Now you know me Longstreet, and I’m not one to let someone with a record of recklessness like yours off the hook, but it seems I have no choice. Frankly, neither do you. I could threaten you with a few more months in the brig, and perhaps a couple of years scrubbing cargo holds, but by the end of the week, Karvost Station will be in the hands of the rebels, and I doubt they will be so kind to you.”
Longstreet tugged the corner of his rugged moustache.
“Will this assignment mean fighting rebels?” he asked.
“Of course, but it’s more than that Longstreet, it’s the only chance the Federation has of stopping their advance...” The admiral paused for a second, glancing at the holopad in his hand.
“Hell Admiral, why am I even standing here? Get me a uniform and we’ll brief on the way to the hangar.” Longstreet’s face broke out into a crooked smile...
“This? This is what you’re giving me command of? This is the best ship you can offer?” Jute drew a finger across the hull, holding it up to show Pellew the orange-red rust clinging to the tip. “I won’t make it out of Orpheus in this Admiral. Maybe you should just put me back in the brig. I’ll take my chances with the rebels.”
“Hell you will,” Pellew never smiled, but Longstreet could tell he was amused, “this ship is old but it handles well, and it’s all we’ve got. Everything else has been requisitioned by high command to hold back the rebel advance. Besides, your record indicates that your first command was of a Kestrel class, one with which you outgunned and outmaneuvered two Slug cruisers in an ion storm.”
“Well if I had a pilot with the stones and a competent weapons officer, then maybe I might make it out of Orpheus,” Jute quipped.
“They might call me nuts, but I’ve also got stones Captain,” a tall, stringy man chuckled as he stepped out from behind a crate of supplies. “Kit Argyle, formerly on suspension pending psychiatric review, newly reinstated for our glorious suicide mission,” he strolled over, wiping the nanite grease off his hands onto his pristine white uniform with no regard for the admirals glower of disapproval.
“Argyle? I’ve heard of you, one of the best damn pilots in Orpheus, hell in Federation space as I heard it. Then again, I also heard you flew a bird without shields through an asteroid field in pursuit of a fugitive against the express orders of your captain,” Longstreet replied.
“Captain Hargraves was timid and incompetent. I not only successfully navigated the asteroid field, but managed to catch up to the fugitive also. I’m not insubordinate Captain, as long as my superiors aren’t inferior. You said it yourself, you need a pilot with stones, and there’s no Rockmen on Karvost, so I can only assume you meant someone like me.” Argyle gave a dramatic bow, and shot a wink at the flustered Admiral Pellew.
A vein on Pellew’s forehead began to throb as his face bloomed into red.
“Rest assured Lieutenant Argyle, you will find Captain Longstreet brooks no such antics aboard his ship.”
“Unless I order such antics,” Jute replied. “I have a feeling we’re going to get along well Argyle. You’ll get to fly, and I’ll get the only pilot who could keep this bird from getting obliterated by the first backwater pirate we come across.”
“She’s not pretty,” Argyle conceded, “but don’t underestimate what this little bird can do.”
“Aye, she can bite alright,” a mountainous man piped up as the hangar bay maintenance doors hissed shut behind him.
“Ah,” Admiral Pellew exclaimed, “this is your weapons officer, Commander Patrick Brogan.”
Brogan saluted perfunctorily, before enveloping Longstreet’s right hand in a bone cracking handshake. “I’ve heard a lot about you Captain, it’s an honour to serve under your command,” he gushed, while absent mindedly crushing Longstreets hand with enthusiasm.
“Well Commander Brogan, I’ve heard of you also.” Longstreet gasped as he extracted his throbbing hand from Brogan’s unrelenting grip, “Weren’t you put in the brig for brawling in the station mess hall?”
“Brawling isn’t how I’d put it Captain,” Brogan flashed a toothy smile, “I’d say cleaning is more appropriate. I should have been awarded a commendation for removing notorious card cheats from the mess hall. How was I to know one of them was the nephew of a Zoltan ambassador?”
“There’s plenty of cleaning to be done between us and our objective Commander Brogan,” Longstreet shot back, “so have your personal affects beamed aboard. We ship out in a few hours.”
As Argyle loped out of the hangar alongside the trundling Brogan, Pellew turned to Longstreet with grim look.
“While every man on this assignment has a long record of violating Federation protocols and guidelines, nobody can deny your loyalty to the Federation itself. You might be a reckless, ill disciplined, and unorthodox, but you’re also the best we’ve got. This holopad contains vital data which must be delivered to Federation High Command in the Gagarin Sector. We cannot transmit such highly classified information, and apart from you and I, only the Admirals at High Command even know this exists,” he handed Longstreet the holopad, “the fate of the Federation rests in your hands Captain.”
“We don’t have a prayer,” Longstreet said.
“On the contrary, we have just one,” Pellew gestured at the aging Kestrel, “the USS Prayer and her crew. Godspeed Longstreet, godspeed.”
On a Wing and a Prayer
-
TheCinephile
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Sun Sep 23, 2012 12:38 am
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TheCinephile
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Sun Sep 23, 2012 12:38 am
Re: On a Wing and a Prayer
Chapter 1: Orpheus Sector
Jump 0
Having pulled away from Karvost Station, the U.S.S Prayer and her crew established an orbit around a small, uninhabited planet. As the crew gathered to eat their first meal in the small mess hall nestled behind the cockpit, the aged, rusted hull of the ship creaked and groaned against the vacuum of space. Kit Argyle smiled at a particularly long and eerily mournful note emanating from the medical bay. “She’s singing her swan song already Captain.”
“I’m sure you’ll make her sing louder than that Lieutenant,” the Captain replied, gulping down a gobbet of protein cake. Argyle’s sallow face lit up with a mischievous grin.
“Ships don’t sing when I ride them Captain, they moan, just like the ladies.” Brogan let out a guffaw and began to choke on his protein cake, coughing uncontrollably as the gooey pink food substitute began to gush from his nose. Longstreet couldn’t help but laugh in spite of himself. He had been brooding all morning over the ship’s poor condition, and while the crew’s maintenance check had proven that all systems were working, most of them were old models, fragile and prone to failure.
“Oh and Captain,” Argyle tossed a napkin across the table to Brogan as he spoke, “I have found one thing to like about this ship.”
“And what is that Lieutenant?”
“It’s got those old Kirov engines,” Argyle smiled again, as if his reasoning we obvious.
“Remind me Lieutenant, why are our outdated engines something to like?” Longstreet was beginning to suspect that Argyle was a bit more batty than he let on.
“Well Cap, the newer models have capacity limiters inbuilt, prevents you from overclocking the engines by diverting power. The old Kirov models didn’t have that safeguard, so during the maintenance check I ran some diagnostics, and reprogrammed the reactor computer to allow more power into engines. It’ll give us a little kick, all we need is to find the spare power somewhere.”
“I can always pull the oxygen generators offline to provide the power Lieutenant, provided it’s only for as long as Brogan here can hold his breath,” Longstreet grinned.
“Isn’t that against regulations Captain?” Argyle mocked.
“So it this,” Longstreet replied as he pulled a couple of bottles of fine Rygellian whiskey out of his locker, “but quite frankly I never much cared for the goddamn regulations.”
“Aye, I’ll drink to that notion Captain!” Brogan had finally regained his breath.
Longstreet poured a round out in the small, plastic cups designed for their supplements.
“This bottle we drink tonight, and this one,” he held the other up like a trophy, “we’ll drink after we save High Command’s fat arses!” Argyle and Brogan cheered heartily, and they brought the cups together with a dull clacking sound before draining them in a single, swift motion. “Since we might die tomorrow,” Jute bellowed as the sting of the whiskey faded from his throat, “I think we’ve earned a the right to live a little tonight!”
Jump 0
Having pulled away from Karvost Station, the U.S.S Prayer and her crew established an orbit around a small, uninhabited planet. As the crew gathered to eat their first meal in the small mess hall nestled behind the cockpit, the aged, rusted hull of the ship creaked and groaned against the vacuum of space. Kit Argyle smiled at a particularly long and eerily mournful note emanating from the medical bay. “She’s singing her swan song already Captain.”
“I’m sure you’ll make her sing louder than that Lieutenant,” the Captain replied, gulping down a gobbet of protein cake. Argyle’s sallow face lit up with a mischievous grin.
“Ships don’t sing when I ride them Captain, they moan, just like the ladies.” Brogan let out a guffaw and began to choke on his protein cake, coughing uncontrollably as the gooey pink food substitute began to gush from his nose. Longstreet couldn’t help but laugh in spite of himself. He had been brooding all morning over the ship’s poor condition, and while the crew’s maintenance check had proven that all systems were working, most of them were old models, fragile and prone to failure.
“Oh and Captain,” Argyle tossed a napkin across the table to Brogan as he spoke, “I have found one thing to like about this ship.”
“And what is that Lieutenant?”
“It’s got those old Kirov engines,” Argyle smiled again, as if his reasoning we obvious.
“Remind me Lieutenant, why are our outdated engines something to like?” Longstreet was beginning to suspect that Argyle was a bit more batty than he let on.
“Well Cap, the newer models have capacity limiters inbuilt, prevents you from overclocking the engines by diverting power. The old Kirov models didn’t have that safeguard, so during the maintenance check I ran some diagnostics, and reprogrammed the reactor computer to allow more power into engines. It’ll give us a little kick, all we need is to find the spare power somewhere.”
“I can always pull the oxygen generators offline to provide the power Lieutenant, provided it’s only for as long as Brogan here can hold his breath,” Longstreet grinned.
“Isn’t that against regulations Captain?” Argyle mocked.
“So it this,” Longstreet replied as he pulled a couple of bottles of fine Rygellian whiskey out of his locker, “but quite frankly I never much cared for the goddamn regulations.”
“Aye, I’ll drink to that notion Captain!” Brogan had finally regained his breath.
Longstreet poured a round out in the small, plastic cups designed for their supplements.
“This bottle we drink tonight, and this one,” he held the other up like a trophy, “we’ll drink after we save High Command’s fat arses!” Argyle and Brogan cheered heartily, and they brought the cups together with a dull clacking sound before draining them in a single, swift motion. “Since we might die tomorrow,” Jute bellowed as the sting of the whiskey faded from his throat, “I think we’ve earned a the right to live a little tonight!”
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TheCinephile
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Sun Sep 23, 2012 12:38 am
Re: On a Wing and a Prayer
Jump 1
Longstreet stood beside Argyle on the bridge. They had only a few beacons in range, and thanks to the rebellion, none of them had been updated in weeks. Thankfully the meagre supply of whiskey and Brogan’s prodigious thirst meant that he had awoken without a hangover. Apart from a nebulous cloud in the center, Orpheus was a fairly unremarkable sector, but the rebellion had drained away Federation forces, leaving little to prevent pirates and slavers from plying their trade in the open. As the two considered their options, the communications array crackled to life. The stiff, officious voice of Admiral Pellew was still unmistakable underneath the static.
USS Prayer be advised, your mission has been compromised. Rebel Fleet is in pursuit. Repeat, your mission has been compromised, Rebel Fleet is in pursuit. Longstreet, do you read? A Rebel faction has seized Karvost, I don’t know how, but they have intel on your mission. I’m sealed in my quarters, but they’ve gotten the arc cutters from the hangar, they...
The transmission suddenly cut out. For a second it crackled back to life with the tell tale screeching of an arc cutter beam, then silence. Longstreet looked at Argyle, then at the chart.
“We have to jump now, Midas II is the furtherest away we can manage in one jump. Engage as soon as the course is laid in Lieutenant,” he barked, “I will be manning the shield station in case we run into anyone lurking behind that beacon.”
“Aye Captain,” Argyle replied, and with incredible speed he began to make arrangements to jump. Longstreet was only at the door of Shield Control when he felt the sudden pull in his innards as the ship began to jump.
The falling sensation in his guts subsided as suddenly as it had come and he knew they had arrived at what should have been Midas II, a small mining colony nestled on a cluster of moons around a gas giant. Yet the moment he entered Shield Control, Longstreet knew something had gone wrong; the port holes glowed a menacing red, and the room was suffocatingly hot. Brogan’s voice boomed forth over the intercom.
“Captain, I’ve detected a ship nearby, it’s weapons systems are online. It’s a Federation ship, but from these readouts, I’d say it’s not Federation men on board.”
“Captain,” Argyle sounded tense over the intercom, but composed, “we’re at the beacon, but the beacon isn’t at Midas II, it’s drifted into orbit with a Class M supergiant. Not to cause alarm, but this ship isn’t designed to withstand that kind of heat. If we don’t jump away soon, we’re going to be barbequed in here.”
Longstreet drew his hand over his beard, now trimmed and clean, and then launched into action. “Brogan, charge weapons, we’re not going to have these pirates here to prey on every unfortunate soul who jumps onto this lost beacon unless we have to. Argyle, get ready for evasive maneuvers...”
“Already done Captain,” Argyle interjected quickly.
“In that case, don’t mention barbeque on the ship again, it’s enough to make a man go mad in the face of protein cakes and supplements.”
“Second that Captain,” Brogan’s voice was so loud that Longstreet could actually feel it reverberating against his skin. He switched on his view screen to see the enemy ship angling into an attack position, as it approached, the telltale purple hull markings confirmed Brogan’s suspicion of pirates.
“All crew, prepare to engage and you have my permission to loosen your collars because it’s going to get quite warm inside.”
As Longstreet took his position at the console, he saw on the viewer that the enemy was armed with shield piercing missiles.
“Captain, I’ve locked our weapons on to their weapons control bay, hopefully we can knock that Artemis launcher out before she can hit us,” Brogan seemed to have anticipated him, and Longstreet smiled despite the tension. Argyle has patched an FTL charge readout into all viewer screens, and as it hit 25%, the pirate ship fired it’s first salvo. Longstreet was ready, and with a quick swipe of his hand, depowered the O2 generators while sending a jolt of extra power into the engines. He felt the ship banking with surprising grace, and watched as the shield readouts registered a near miss by a heavy laser blast. The Prayer banked even harder, and then decelerated sharply, almost throwing Longstreet from his chair. Immediately afterwards, a missile impacted somewhere on the ship. Longstreet cursed under his breath. Ship status indicated it had not hit any important systems, but fire alarms were blaring. At the same moment, Longstreet heard Brogan over the intercom roaring “Firing!”
The Prayer’s Burst Laser was one of the few pieces of equipment on board which was not well over a decade old. Longstreet felt the low throbbing reverberations of it’s firing sequence pulsing through the old hull, as well as the punchier report of a missile being fired from the ancient Artemis launcher on the port side. On the viewer, he held his breath as the lasers shattered the shield, with two impacting, while the missile exploded on the side of the ship with devastating accuracy.
Longstreet glanced back at his readouts, and saw a fire in the portside hold. Brogan had already accessed the airlocks and was venting the rooms to starve out the flames.
“Sorry Captain, but I couldn’t quite avoid both,” Argyle sounded irritated, even a little disappointed, “the missile was locked on our weapons, but I managed to catch it on port cargo bay.”
“Not to worry Lieutenant,” Longstreet replied tersely, “just try to remember that we’re not all strapped into our seats.”
“Sorry Captain, I should have warned you that things can get a little... turbulent... during and engagement when I’m at the helm. FTL Drive is 30% charged sir.”
As Longstreet glanced at the viewer, he felt the Burst Laser firing again, and watched as the first bolt shattered the pirate ship’s shield, while the second hit directly on the helm. The third sailed just high as the ship suddenly spun away, it’s controls obviously badly damaged.
“Missile is charged Captain,” Brogan reported.
Suddenly the communicator came to life.
Federation ship! This is the Kimyo, we surrender, do not fire! We’ll surrender all of our goods, just let us live.
Longstreet hit the communicator button and snarled into the microphone, “Kimyo this is Captain Jute Longstreet of the USS Prayer, Federation law entitles you to surrender to authorities, however, my weapons officer is hungover and my cargo bay is scorched, have a nice day,” he shut off the communicator and hit the intercom. “Fire when ready Commander Brogan.”
The missile impact was silent in the vacuum of space, but the sight of the pirate ship being broken to pieces in the red light of the super giant was strangely comforting to Longstreet. He had spent so long in the brig, he had forgotten the intensity of battle, and the deep, abiding thrill of victory. Brogan deployed some basic tractor drones to salvage parts and fuel cells from the wreckage. The small swarm quick stripped down the remnants of the ship and delivered them to the holds. Longstreet glanced at the viewer to see that the FTL was finally charged up.
“Lieutenant, get us out of here!”
A second later, Longstreet felt the ship sliding into a jump and watched as the viewer with the shattered remnants of the pirate ship flicker and then cut to an empty black screen.
Longstreet stood beside Argyle on the bridge. They had only a few beacons in range, and thanks to the rebellion, none of them had been updated in weeks. Thankfully the meagre supply of whiskey and Brogan’s prodigious thirst meant that he had awoken without a hangover. Apart from a nebulous cloud in the center, Orpheus was a fairly unremarkable sector, but the rebellion had drained away Federation forces, leaving little to prevent pirates and slavers from plying their trade in the open. As the two considered their options, the communications array crackled to life. The stiff, officious voice of Admiral Pellew was still unmistakable underneath the static.
USS Prayer be advised, your mission has been compromised. Rebel Fleet is in pursuit. Repeat, your mission has been compromised, Rebel Fleet is in pursuit. Longstreet, do you read? A Rebel faction has seized Karvost, I don’t know how, but they have intel on your mission. I’m sealed in my quarters, but they’ve gotten the arc cutters from the hangar, they...
The transmission suddenly cut out. For a second it crackled back to life with the tell tale screeching of an arc cutter beam, then silence. Longstreet looked at Argyle, then at the chart.
“We have to jump now, Midas II is the furtherest away we can manage in one jump. Engage as soon as the course is laid in Lieutenant,” he barked, “I will be manning the shield station in case we run into anyone lurking behind that beacon.”
“Aye Captain,” Argyle replied, and with incredible speed he began to make arrangements to jump. Longstreet was only at the door of Shield Control when he felt the sudden pull in his innards as the ship began to jump.
The falling sensation in his guts subsided as suddenly as it had come and he knew they had arrived at what should have been Midas II, a small mining colony nestled on a cluster of moons around a gas giant. Yet the moment he entered Shield Control, Longstreet knew something had gone wrong; the port holes glowed a menacing red, and the room was suffocatingly hot. Brogan’s voice boomed forth over the intercom.
“Captain, I’ve detected a ship nearby, it’s weapons systems are online. It’s a Federation ship, but from these readouts, I’d say it’s not Federation men on board.”
“Captain,” Argyle sounded tense over the intercom, but composed, “we’re at the beacon, but the beacon isn’t at Midas II, it’s drifted into orbit with a Class M supergiant. Not to cause alarm, but this ship isn’t designed to withstand that kind of heat. If we don’t jump away soon, we’re going to be barbequed in here.”
Longstreet drew his hand over his beard, now trimmed and clean, and then launched into action. “Brogan, charge weapons, we’re not going to have these pirates here to prey on every unfortunate soul who jumps onto this lost beacon unless we have to. Argyle, get ready for evasive maneuvers...”
“Already done Captain,” Argyle interjected quickly.
“In that case, don’t mention barbeque on the ship again, it’s enough to make a man go mad in the face of protein cakes and supplements.”
“Second that Captain,” Brogan’s voice was so loud that Longstreet could actually feel it reverberating against his skin. He switched on his view screen to see the enemy ship angling into an attack position, as it approached, the telltale purple hull markings confirmed Brogan’s suspicion of pirates.
“All crew, prepare to engage and you have my permission to loosen your collars because it’s going to get quite warm inside.”
As Longstreet took his position at the console, he saw on the viewer that the enemy was armed with shield piercing missiles.
“Captain, I’ve locked our weapons on to their weapons control bay, hopefully we can knock that Artemis launcher out before she can hit us,” Brogan seemed to have anticipated him, and Longstreet smiled despite the tension. Argyle has patched an FTL charge readout into all viewer screens, and as it hit 25%, the pirate ship fired it’s first salvo. Longstreet was ready, and with a quick swipe of his hand, depowered the O2 generators while sending a jolt of extra power into the engines. He felt the ship banking with surprising grace, and watched as the shield readouts registered a near miss by a heavy laser blast. The Prayer banked even harder, and then decelerated sharply, almost throwing Longstreet from his chair. Immediately afterwards, a missile impacted somewhere on the ship. Longstreet cursed under his breath. Ship status indicated it had not hit any important systems, but fire alarms were blaring. At the same moment, Longstreet heard Brogan over the intercom roaring “Firing!”
The Prayer’s Burst Laser was one of the few pieces of equipment on board which was not well over a decade old. Longstreet felt the low throbbing reverberations of it’s firing sequence pulsing through the old hull, as well as the punchier report of a missile being fired from the ancient Artemis launcher on the port side. On the viewer, he held his breath as the lasers shattered the shield, with two impacting, while the missile exploded on the side of the ship with devastating accuracy.
Longstreet glanced back at his readouts, and saw a fire in the portside hold. Brogan had already accessed the airlocks and was venting the rooms to starve out the flames.
“Sorry Captain, but I couldn’t quite avoid both,” Argyle sounded irritated, even a little disappointed, “the missile was locked on our weapons, but I managed to catch it on port cargo bay.”
“Not to worry Lieutenant,” Longstreet replied tersely, “just try to remember that we’re not all strapped into our seats.”
“Sorry Captain, I should have warned you that things can get a little... turbulent... during and engagement when I’m at the helm. FTL Drive is 30% charged sir.”
As Longstreet glanced at the viewer, he felt the Burst Laser firing again, and watched as the first bolt shattered the pirate ship’s shield, while the second hit directly on the helm. The third sailed just high as the ship suddenly spun away, it’s controls obviously badly damaged.
“Missile is charged Captain,” Brogan reported.
Suddenly the communicator came to life.
Federation ship! This is the Kimyo, we surrender, do not fire! We’ll surrender all of our goods, just let us live.
Longstreet hit the communicator button and snarled into the microphone, “Kimyo this is Captain Jute Longstreet of the USS Prayer, Federation law entitles you to surrender to authorities, however, my weapons officer is hungover and my cargo bay is scorched, have a nice day,” he shut off the communicator and hit the intercom. “Fire when ready Commander Brogan.”
The missile impact was silent in the vacuum of space, but the sight of the pirate ship being broken to pieces in the red light of the super giant was strangely comforting to Longstreet. He had spent so long in the brig, he had forgotten the intensity of battle, and the deep, abiding thrill of victory. Brogan deployed some basic tractor drones to salvage parts and fuel cells from the wreckage. The small swarm quick stripped down the remnants of the ship and delivered them to the holds. Longstreet glanced at the viewer to see that the FTL was finally charged up.
“Lieutenant, get us out of here!”
A second later, Longstreet felt the ship sliding into a jump and watched as the viewer with the shattered remnants of the pirate ship flicker and then cut to an empty black screen.
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TheCinephile
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Sun Sep 23, 2012 12:38 am
Re: On a Wing and a Prayer
Jump 2
Captain Jute Longstreet felt the ship come out of jump with a jolt, as if the universe had just exhaled around him. As the viewer flickered to life, Argyle and Brogan both came over the intercom simultaneously.
“Hostile drone!”
“Charge weapons Brogan, Argyle I’ll be feeding you power from the oxygenerators when you need it so use it well!” Longstreet barked orders as he turned towards the shield control console.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
SHIELDS OFFLINE: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED
The message blinked on the screen in ominous red letters.
“Gentlemen, we have no shields!” he said into the intercom curtly as he bolted out the door. Longstreet could hear the blaring of alarms in weapons as he passed through but he had no time to stop; besides, Brogan could handle himself. He burst into the engine room, to be enveloped by the deep, low hum of the old Kirov engines which Argyle loved so much. He activated viewers and ship controls, directing the unused power from the shields into the engines. The massive thrusters on either side shifted up a note, while the FTL drive whirred away a little faster thanks to the power boost.
“Incoming!” Brogan shouted.
“Goddamn that thing is fast!” Argyle noted as the ship began to evade. A little too slow as a missile slammed into the defenseless ship, followed by a missile. The Prayer’s hull groaned under the strain, but held, and Longstreet breathed a sigh of relief to see that no essential systems had been hit. On viewer he glanced up to see Brogan’s first salvo slam into the drone, deactivating it’s weapons and buying them some time.
“Brogan, take out it’s shields!” Longstreet commanded as he checked for breaches or fires.
“Aye Captain, missile away.”
Another direct hit, and Longstreet pumped his fist in celebration as he watched the drone’s shield melting away. Immediately afterwards, Brogan fired the Burst Laser at it’s drive control unit. Longstreet could almost hear everyone on board holding their breath as the three laser bolts zipped across the empty space and slammed into the drone. It’s hull cracked open like nut, and fiery explosions shattered it into several chunks. Salvage bots were deployed when the wreckage cooled off, and brought back some fuel, assorted parts as well as an intact drone CPU unit. The three of them sorted through the useable parts, discarding many, but Argyle found a reactor coolant enhancement and the three spent the rest of the day upgrading the reactor to provide a little more power to the Prayer.
“We can’t take this kind of punishment for long Captain,” Brogan remarked, having done a thorough check of the hull integrity.
“Agreed Commander, this Kestrel class isn’t much to look at now, but I’m not planning on observing the Federation regulations on custom weaponry and system upgrades Commander. What we need is a little luck. Lieutenant Argyle has already upgraded our engines, and our reactor now has a far greater capacity than the standard model. If we can pick up the parts along the way, we could make this old bucket of bolts into a real ship. I’ve seen pirate vessels with more weapons and drones crammed on then any protocol obsessed Federation engineer would think possible. I’m sure Argyle here knows a few tricks, and I know a few myself, how about you?”
Brogan grinned.
“There’s a few weapon arrays that are strictly theoretical on a ship of this size, but I suspect I can make them work” he chuckled.
The following morning, after a well earned night’s rest, the crew manned their posts, charged the FTL drive and jumped into the small nebula at the center of the Orpheus Sector.
Captain Jute Longstreet felt the ship come out of jump with a jolt, as if the universe had just exhaled around him. As the viewer flickered to life, Argyle and Brogan both came over the intercom simultaneously.
“Hostile drone!”
“Charge weapons Brogan, Argyle I’ll be feeding you power from the oxygenerators when you need it so use it well!” Longstreet barked orders as he turned towards the shield control console.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
SHIELDS OFFLINE: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED
The message blinked on the screen in ominous red letters.
“Gentlemen, we have no shields!” he said into the intercom curtly as he bolted out the door. Longstreet could hear the blaring of alarms in weapons as he passed through but he had no time to stop; besides, Brogan could handle himself. He burst into the engine room, to be enveloped by the deep, low hum of the old Kirov engines which Argyle loved so much. He activated viewers and ship controls, directing the unused power from the shields into the engines. The massive thrusters on either side shifted up a note, while the FTL drive whirred away a little faster thanks to the power boost.
“Incoming!” Brogan shouted.
“Goddamn that thing is fast!” Argyle noted as the ship began to evade. A little too slow as a missile slammed into the defenseless ship, followed by a missile. The Prayer’s hull groaned under the strain, but held, and Longstreet breathed a sigh of relief to see that no essential systems had been hit. On viewer he glanced up to see Brogan’s first salvo slam into the drone, deactivating it’s weapons and buying them some time.
“Brogan, take out it’s shields!” Longstreet commanded as he checked for breaches or fires.
“Aye Captain, missile away.”
Another direct hit, and Longstreet pumped his fist in celebration as he watched the drone’s shield melting away. Immediately afterwards, Brogan fired the Burst Laser at it’s drive control unit. Longstreet could almost hear everyone on board holding their breath as the three laser bolts zipped across the empty space and slammed into the drone. It’s hull cracked open like nut, and fiery explosions shattered it into several chunks. Salvage bots were deployed when the wreckage cooled off, and brought back some fuel, assorted parts as well as an intact drone CPU unit. The three of them sorted through the useable parts, discarding many, but Argyle found a reactor coolant enhancement and the three spent the rest of the day upgrading the reactor to provide a little more power to the Prayer.
“We can’t take this kind of punishment for long Captain,” Brogan remarked, having done a thorough check of the hull integrity.
“Agreed Commander, this Kestrel class isn’t much to look at now, but I’m not planning on observing the Federation regulations on custom weaponry and system upgrades Commander. What we need is a little luck. Lieutenant Argyle has already upgraded our engines, and our reactor now has a far greater capacity than the standard model. If we can pick up the parts along the way, we could make this old bucket of bolts into a real ship. I’ve seen pirate vessels with more weapons and drones crammed on then any protocol obsessed Federation engineer would think possible. I’m sure Argyle here knows a few tricks, and I know a few myself, how about you?”
Brogan grinned.
“There’s a few weapon arrays that are strictly theoretical on a ship of this size, but I suspect I can make them work” he chuckled.
The following morning, after a well earned night’s rest, the crew manned their posts, charged the FTL drive and jumped into the small nebula at the center of the Orpheus Sector.
-
TheCinephile
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Sun Sep 23, 2012 12:38 am
Re: On a Wing and a Prayer
Jump 3
Captain Jute Longstreet had long learned the intricacies of navigation and combat in nebulous regions. His first command had taken him on a tour through the periphery of the Slug Home Nebula, a place which most Federation officers did not dare to fly. The small cloud at the center of the Orpheus system was rarely trafficked, and while it was frequented by pirates, smugglers and slavers looking to hide, Longstreet was gambling that few would have the wherewithal to engage a Federation ship inside a nebula. He joined Argyle at the helm as they emerged from the jump, looking for any signs of movement in the dense gas clouds around the beacon. At first it seemed they were alone, but then Longstreet spotted a telltale disturbance in the cloud and saw a Federation ship slipping into the fog, apparently unaware of their presence.
“After them Lieutenant,” he ordered Argyle as he made his way back to Shield Control.
For an hour, the Prayer glided silently through the swirling purple mists, without sensors or long range communications, unable to locate the Federation ship. Longstreet was almost ready to give up when Argyle burst over the intercom.
“A ship Captain, dead astern. Wait, it’s... it’s not the Federation sir, that’s a Rebel fighter and she’s coming in hot.”
“Bring us around Lieutenant! Commander Brogan charge w...”
“Weapons charging Captain, I need to bring down that beam before it can do us serious harm.”
“Glad to hear it Commander,” Longstreet replied, quietly pleased with how well his crewmen were doing, particularly Brogan, who seemed to be one step ahead in every battle. The Prayer decelerated suddenly and then banked around in an expertly tight maneuver to face the incoming rebel fighter. Suddenly the enemy’s disadvantage melted away as they squared off, the rebel captain obviously bamboozled by Arygle’s somewhat unorthodox maneuvering. Shields were up and at full capacity, and thankfully the enemy ship did not have a missile launcher. Longstreet allowed himself a smile, this time he had the upper hand. The smile vanished in an instant as his viewer blazed red with a blinking message.
INTRUDERS DETECTED!
The nebula interfered with on board monitors, so they could be anywhere on board. It was a tactic he’d encountered a few times in the Slug Home Nebula.
“Brogan!” he bellowed into the intercom, as he drew his blaster from it’s holster. He rushed into the hall, and hearing no response from Brogan, knew they must be in weapons already. As he crossed the hall, he heard the sharp report of a Federation issue blaster inside the weapons room. Jute Longstreet hated being boarded, and he hated the Rebels especially, so he entered the Weapons Bay in no mood to negotiate. A short, thickset man was fending off Brogan, and clearly regretting his decision to board as the massive weapons officer bore down on him, blaster in hand. The rebel boarder managed to evade Brogan’s first shot, but not Longstreet’s. It hit him in the shin with a sizzling of flesh and bone. The rebel’s howl of pain was cut abruptly short by a punch to the gut from Brogan. The rebel’s blaster discharged, perhaps accidentally, hitting Brogan in the arm. The repulsively distinct smell of laser burnt flesh flooded the small room as the three men battled. Brogan’s wound looked bad, but not as bad as the rebel who was on one leg. He was clearly a veteran boarder, with the fine scars left by nanobot surgeries on his face and arms. Longstreet brought his blaster up level with the boarder’s head and let off a bolt. It missed narrowly, leaving a nasty black crater on the wall. The boarder smiled and raised his own blaster, aiming at Longstreet. Longstreet ducked futilely, his eyes snapping shut as he heard the horrible sound of the blaster.
A second passed before he realised he was still alive. Jute Longstreet opened his eyes to find Brogan still clutching the blaster, the corpse of the rebel slumped over in front of him, a neat hole burned through the head at the temples.
“Captain,” he offered his good hand, helping Longstreet to his feet.
“Thank you Commander,” Longstreet gasped as the massive weapons officer pulled him to his feet like a doll.
“Thank me later Captain, we’ve still got a ship out there.”
Argyle’s voice came over the intercom, sounded a little concerned for the first time since Longstreet had known him.
“Captain, Commander? Status?”
“We’re alright Lieutenant, Brogan’s injured, but we need to deal with this fighter. What’s our status?”
“I put weapons under AI control, the fighter’s been disarmed. The beam got by out shield for a second, we took a little damage, but nothing too serious.”
“Excellent, good work Argyle. Brogan are you able to man your post?” Longstreet asked as he turned around from the intercom to find Brogan already operating his post on handed, his injured arm tucked up against his chest.
“Oh and Captain,” Argyle came over the intercom again.
“What is it Lieutenant?” Longstreet asked, as he made his way to Shield Control.
“Now might be a good time to divert power back to the oxygenerators...” Argyle’s voice belied a the grin on his face. Longstreet pulled his portable ship control unit out of his pocket to find that the oxygen generators were already running at full capacity. “I’m just kidding Captain, I switched it while you were wrestling with our unexpected caller, figured you wouldn’t mind if I did, and you wouldn’t mind if I didn’t since you’d be dead anyway.”
“Thank you Lieutenant,” Longstreet had to supress a chortle as he took his place at the shield control console. The enemy fighter was badly damaged, and unable to return fire. “Commander Brogan, how many missiles do we have left in the hold?”
“Five Captain,” Brogan’s voice was as loud as ever, but the strain in it made even Longstreet wince as he heard it.
“Very well, we’ll use the Burst Laser only to finish them off. Block our communications by the way Argyle, I don’t want to heard any surrender terms from these parasites.”
The first salvo of the burst laser was woefully wide of the mark, with only one laser grazing the shields of the enemy ship.
“Sorry Captain, just aligning the sights, the nebula has scrambled the targeting system,” Brogan explained. Longstreet had encountered this issue in nebula regions before. “
“Brogan, don’t use your targeting system, manually target with rangefinder and heat signatures. It’s the best way to get an accurate shot in this mist, take out their shields!” he responded over the intercom as he checked that the O2 levels were still stabilizing with no sign of a hull breach by opening the doors. As the enemy brought their Beam weapon back online, Brogan fired another salvo, this time all three bolts hitting, smashing into the shield generators. Longstreet pumped the air with his fist. “We’ve got em Brogan!”
“Captain, they’re charging their FTL drive,” Argyle interjected.
“Brogan fire on their helm, we cannot afford for our position to be reported to the Rebel Fleet!” Longstreet ordered.
“Targeting helm Captain,” Commander Brogan voice was edged with pain, but also a grim determination to obliterate the enemy ship. As he watched on the viewer, he saw the enemy’s Heavy Laser coming back online. If they did not take down the ship soon, they were about to sustain more damage than they could afford. As the Burst Laser reached full charge, a small red light on the communicator began blinking, indicating an incoming message being blocked.
“Fire,” he ordered.
The Burst Laser zipped across the empty space between the ships and shattered the hull of the rebel fighter. Longstreet watched impassively as the enemy pilot was vented into space, while the ship’s reactor exploded, leaving behind only a blackened wreck, haunting the mists.
Brogan spent the rest of the day in the medical bay having his wound tended by mdical nanobots. Argyle and Longstreet sorted through the recovered scrap and found a couple of undamaged missiles, as well as a salvageable fuel cell.
After everything had been stored in the hull, Argyle returned to the helm to charge up the FTL, while Longstreet paid Brogan a visit in the Medical Bay.
The giant Commander was looked much better, his arm now repaired, leaving only a small scar where the synthesized tissue was connected to the original flesh.
“Those nanobots work wonders Captain, but I’ll be damned if they don’t tickle worse than anything,” he chuckled to Longstreet as he hopped out of the cot, brushing off the little diagnostic drone hovering about his arm.
“Hell of a fight today eh Commander?” Longstreet grinned.
“One of the disadvantages of being a big guy,” Brogan held out his scarred forearm, “is being a big target.”
“You saved my life today Commander. I just wanted to say...”
“Just doing my duty Captain,” Brogan interrupted, matter of factly.
“Pat,” Longstreet looked him in the eye, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Brogan smiled, “Jute.”
Argyle came in over the intercom.
“FTL is charged sir, I’m getting a signal from a possible trade post nearby, maybe we can trade some of this scrap we’ve accumulated? There’s also a beacon nearby which might have something useful”
“We’ll visit the trading post soon enough Lieutenant, first let’s investigate this other beacon.”
A second later Longstreet and Brogan both inhaled sharply as the peculiar sensation of the jump sequence washed over the ship.
Captain Jute Longstreet had long learned the intricacies of navigation and combat in nebulous regions. His first command had taken him on a tour through the periphery of the Slug Home Nebula, a place which most Federation officers did not dare to fly. The small cloud at the center of the Orpheus system was rarely trafficked, and while it was frequented by pirates, smugglers and slavers looking to hide, Longstreet was gambling that few would have the wherewithal to engage a Federation ship inside a nebula. He joined Argyle at the helm as they emerged from the jump, looking for any signs of movement in the dense gas clouds around the beacon. At first it seemed they were alone, but then Longstreet spotted a telltale disturbance in the cloud and saw a Federation ship slipping into the fog, apparently unaware of their presence.
“After them Lieutenant,” he ordered Argyle as he made his way back to Shield Control.
For an hour, the Prayer glided silently through the swirling purple mists, without sensors or long range communications, unable to locate the Federation ship. Longstreet was almost ready to give up when Argyle burst over the intercom.
“A ship Captain, dead astern. Wait, it’s... it’s not the Federation sir, that’s a Rebel fighter and she’s coming in hot.”
“Bring us around Lieutenant! Commander Brogan charge w...”
“Weapons charging Captain, I need to bring down that beam before it can do us serious harm.”
“Glad to hear it Commander,” Longstreet replied, quietly pleased with how well his crewmen were doing, particularly Brogan, who seemed to be one step ahead in every battle. The Prayer decelerated suddenly and then banked around in an expertly tight maneuver to face the incoming rebel fighter. Suddenly the enemy’s disadvantage melted away as they squared off, the rebel captain obviously bamboozled by Arygle’s somewhat unorthodox maneuvering. Shields were up and at full capacity, and thankfully the enemy ship did not have a missile launcher. Longstreet allowed himself a smile, this time he had the upper hand. The smile vanished in an instant as his viewer blazed red with a blinking message.
INTRUDERS DETECTED!
The nebula interfered with on board monitors, so they could be anywhere on board. It was a tactic he’d encountered a few times in the Slug Home Nebula.
“Brogan!” he bellowed into the intercom, as he drew his blaster from it’s holster. He rushed into the hall, and hearing no response from Brogan, knew they must be in weapons already. As he crossed the hall, he heard the sharp report of a Federation issue blaster inside the weapons room. Jute Longstreet hated being boarded, and he hated the Rebels especially, so he entered the Weapons Bay in no mood to negotiate. A short, thickset man was fending off Brogan, and clearly regretting his decision to board as the massive weapons officer bore down on him, blaster in hand. The rebel boarder managed to evade Brogan’s first shot, but not Longstreet’s. It hit him in the shin with a sizzling of flesh and bone. The rebel’s howl of pain was cut abruptly short by a punch to the gut from Brogan. The rebel’s blaster discharged, perhaps accidentally, hitting Brogan in the arm. The repulsively distinct smell of laser burnt flesh flooded the small room as the three men battled. Brogan’s wound looked bad, but not as bad as the rebel who was on one leg. He was clearly a veteran boarder, with the fine scars left by nanobot surgeries on his face and arms. Longstreet brought his blaster up level with the boarder’s head and let off a bolt. It missed narrowly, leaving a nasty black crater on the wall. The boarder smiled and raised his own blaster, aiming at Longstreet. Longstreet ducked futilely, his eyes snapping shut as he heard the horrible sound of the blaster.
A second passed before he realised he was still alive. Jute Longstreet opened his eyes to find Brogan still clutching the blaster, the corpse of the rebel slumped over in front of him, a neat hole burned through the head at the temples.
“Captain,” he offered his good hand, helping Longstreet to his feet.
“Thank you Commander,” Longstreet gasped as the massive weapons officer pulled him to his feet like a doll.
“Thank me later Captain, we’ve still got a ship out there.”
Argyle’s voice came over the intercom, sounded a little concerned for the first time since Longstreet had known him.
“Captain, Commander? Status?”
“We’re alright Lieutenant, Brogan’s injured, but we need to deal with this fighter. What’s our status?”
“I put weapons under AI control, the fighter’s been disarmed. The beam got by out shield for a second, we took a little damage, but nothing too serious.”
“Excellent, good work Argyle. Brogan are you able to man your post?” Longstreet asked as he turned around from the intercom to find Brogan already operating his post on handed, his injured arm tucked up against his chest.
“Oh and Captain,” Argyle came over the intercom again.
“What is it Lieutenant?” Longstreet asked, as he made his way to Shield Control.
“Now might be a good time to divert power back to the oxygenerators...” Argyle’s voice belied a the grin on his face. Longstreet pulled his portable ship control unit out of his pocket to find that the oxygen generators were already running at full capacity. “I’m just kidding Captain, I switched it while you were wrestling with our unexpected caller, figured you wouldn’t mind if I did, and you wouldn’t mind if I didn’t since you’d be dead anyway.”
“Thank you Lieutenant,” Longstreet had to supress a chortle as he took his place at the shield control console. The enemy fighter was badly damaged, and unable to return fire. “Commander Brogan, how many missiles do we have left in the hold?”
“Five Captain,” Brogan’s voice was as loud as ever, but the strain in it made even Longstreet wince as he heard it.
“Very well, we’ll use the Burst Laser only to finish them off. Block our communications by the way Argyle, I don’t want to heard any surrender terms from these parasites.”
The first salvo of the burst laser was woefully wide of the mark, with only one laser grazing the shields of the enemy ship.
“Sorry Captain, just aligning the sights, the nebula has scrambled the targeting system,” Brogan explained. Longstreet had encountered this issue in nebula regions before. “
“Brogan, don’t use your targeting system, manually target with rangefinder and heat signatures. It’s the best way to get an accurate shot in this mist, take out their shields!” he responded over the intercom as he checked that the O2 levels were still stabilizing with no sign of a hull breach by opening the doors. As the enemy brought their Beam weapon back online, Brogan fired another salvo, this time all three bolts hitting, smashing into the shield generators. Longstreet pumped the air with his fist. “We’ve got em Brogan!”
“Captain, they’re charging their FTL drive,” Argyle interjected.
“Brogan fire on their helm, we cannot afford for our position to be reported to the Rebel Fleet!” Longstreet ordered.
“Targeting helm Captain,” Commander Brogan voice was edged with pain, but also a grim determination to obliterate the enemy ship. As he watched on the viewer, he saw the enemy’s Heavy Laser coming back online. If they did not take down the ship soon, they were about to sustain more damage than they could afford. As the Burst Laser reached full charge, a small red light on the communicator began blinking, indicating an incoming message being blocked.
“Fire,” he ordered.
The Burst Laser zipped across the empty space between the ships and shattered the hull of the rebel fighter. Longstreet watched impassively as the enemy pilot was vented into space, while the ship’s reactor exploded, leaving behind only a blackened wreck, haunting the mists.
Brogan spent the rest of the day in the medical bay having his wound tended by mdical nanobots. Argyle and Longstreet sorted through the recovered scrap and found a couple of undamaged missiles, as well as a salvageable fuel cell.
After everything had been stored in the hull, Argyle returned to the helm to charge up the FTL, while Longstreet paid Brogan a visit in the Medical Bay.
The giant Commander was looked much better, his arm now repaired, leaving only a small scar where the synthesized tissue was connected to the original flesh.
“Those nanobots work wonders Captain, but I’ll be damned if they don’t tickle worse than anything,” he chuckled to Longstreet as he hopped out of the cot, brushing off the little diagnostic drone hovering about his arm.
“Hell of a fight today eh Commander?” Longstreet grinned.
“One of the disadvantages of being a big guy,” Brogan held out his scarred forearm, “is being a big target.”
“You saved my life today Commander. I just wanted to say...”
“Just doing my duty Captain,” Brogan interrupted, matter of factly.
“Pat,” Longstreet looked him in the eye, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Brogan smiled, “Jute.”
Argyle came in over the intercom.
“FTL is charged sir, I’m getting a signal from a possible trade post nearby, maybe we can trade some of this scrap we’ve accumulated? There’s also a beacon nearby which might have something useful”
“We’ll visit the trading post soon enough Lieutenant, first let’s investigate this other beacon.”
A second later Longstreet and Brogan both inhaled sharply as the peculiar sensation of the jump sequence washed over the ship.