Noah - 6. Chapter 6

Date: 9th March 2395
Location: MMV Tallinn

The bright white light of the medibay ceiling burned when I opened my eyes. My whole body tingled incessantly, every cell seemingly vibrating independently. The ringing in my ears was deafening and however hard I tried I couldn’t seem to move an inch; a small message displaying in my mind that my neural link was overriding my body and preventing me from moving.

For several long minutes I lay paralysed, only able to open my eyes for a moment before the light forced me to close them again. Eventually I felt the presence of a figure near me and, forcing my eyes open long enough for then to adapt, slowly the figure took shape.

The green bend of his uniform denoting his Medical assignment, a Doctor stood over me with an inquiring look. I felt him exerting pressure on my right knee, then my kidney region and then along my arm.

After he had finished his examination the message vanished and I felt control of my body return to me. Immediately sitting up I looked around the room; a standard M vessel design medical bay, three more beds along the same wall as the one I lay on, another four opposite and an office at one end.

The doctor was still standing to my left, his right hand now resting on my left shoulder. Raising his left arm I saw that from the elbow down it was a cybernetic replacement comprising of a scanner and micro sequencer capable of creating thousands of medical tools and compounds.

“Steady.” He cautioned, “You’re still recovering. It was pretty close there; we nearly lost you a few times.”

“Where…” I began before he stopped me.

“The MMV Tallinn.” He interrupted. “We picked up your distress call and found you floating in what was left of your Cutthroat. The Captain will debrief you later, but for now I’m going to have to insist that you rest.”

Before I had a chance to reply I felt a stab in my neck and quickly slipped into unconsciousness.

“Rise and shine, Cadet.” A voice that was far too eager and bubbly for my liking woke me up. Once again I had trouble upon opening my eyes thanks to the lighting but after a few moments I saw an Ensign with a green bend standing next to me. “You’re all fixed, time to get grilled by the brass.”

“What?” I asked groggily, still not quite grasping exactly where I was or what had happened recently.

“The Captain wanted me to acquaint you with the ship before your debriefing. We’ve just left Europa for a tour so it’s going to be a while before we get you home; you’ve been reassigned to the ship until we return and our flight master has agreed to take you on.”

“What do you mean? I haven’t even started at the academy yet!” I replied, “I’m no combat pilot.” That I had survived at all down to pure luck, now I was being assigned active duty on a patrol ship.

“Cadet, there is half a fighter in the hangar bay with five kills to its name, and the identity plate says it’s yours. We were just inside scanner range when we got your call and from what I’ve heard, you’ve attracted a bit of attention with your little display.”

“I was just lucky.” I said shaking my head, “Lark and Larenko weren’t.” I had an image of those few moments while I was spinning out of control, seeing the missile heading towards Larenko and annihilating his fighter.

“We were just in range to pick up their neural maps.” He replied as he turned me and pulled me to my feet. “They have already been forwarded to Europa. By now your friends will be getting used to their new bodies. Now get dressed and I’ll show you to your quarters.” He handed me a uniform, “Unless of course you want to wander around the ship naked, it doesn’t bother me.” He finished with a cheeky smile. I’d showered and changed around others all my life and it had never bothered me being naked around people, but I suddenly got a pang of self consciousness and quickly pulled on the uniform before following him to the door.

Internally the Tallinn was like any other M Military vessel, the same black and grey colour scheme used throughout M architecture. We walked through several nondescript corridors before stepping into a grav lift and falling several decks, emerging at another nondescript corridor. The tag etched on the door we finally stopped at read ‘L14S07-05 Guest Quarters’, Inside was the same as every set of living quarters I had ever seen aboard an M vessel.

“Welcome home.” The Ensign commented when I stepped inside. “I’ve got duties to attend to, but if you need help with anything just send me a message and I’ll do what I can. The name’s Dover, I’m the only one aboard so any messages you send will find me fine.”

“Thanks, Dover. I’m Sven, Sven Jones.” I replied.

“Seeya later Sven, Flight Chief Thorn will contact you later about your duties.” With that he turned and walked down the hall.

Lying on the bed I began composing a message to my father. I still hadn’t managed to tell him about my entry into the advanced program at the flight school, and already I had gotten into a fight which I had barely survived and been given a field assignment aboard a patrol frigate.

I had barely finished writing when a message appeared in my neural link;

<<Source: C^2C Larenko, Alexi>>

<<Target: C^2C Jones, Sven>>

You lucky bastard! Do you have any idea how much it hurts being vaporised? And you managed to keep your tally! Intelligence went nuts when word got back to them about what we found, me and Lark were both grilled for hours as soon as we were revived; expect the same soon. Turns out those ships were Cannelli, nobody knows how they got there without being detected.

Speak with you soon,

Alexi

p.s. Your dad’s going mad here, I think Lark was more afraid of him than the Intel guys! You better send him a message soon.

<<MESSAGE ENDS>>

Before I could begin a response the door chimed. When I opened it, a woman physically in her forties wearing command colours and a captain’s insignia was standing waiting. Immediately I snapped to attention.

“Ma’am!” I greeted her.

“At ease, Cadet.” She replied. “Mind if I come in?”

Relaxing I welcomed her into my quarters and remained standing while she sat on my bed.

“I was watching on scanners from when we picked up your call, Cadet. That was some pretty fancy flying, mind telling me where you learned that? Your records show you haven’t even started at the Academy yet.” She asked casually.

“My dad is a pilot, and I’ve grown up around pilots. I’ve been flying since I was a kid, I guess I picked up a few moves along the way.”

“Well judging from the results I’d say you could already teach a few of the greenies I have onboard a few things. Anyway, onto business.” She switched into a more official tone and stood up. “I am Captain Holster and this is the MMV Tallinn, the finest ship in the fleet. We’ve only just left Europa on a six week patrol of the outer region of the system, and we’re already out of fighter or shuttle range, so you are going to be with us for some time. To that end, you have been reassigned to Flight Chief Thorn, our senior pilot. I know you were told you had ten weeks of freedom before you were to leave for the Academy but since you are here now it has been decided that you will study under him. He’s a good man and will teach you a lot that you won’t learn at the Academy. He will also pair you up with one of the wing leaders, so you will get some space time too. While aboard you are a member of my crew and will be expected to behave as such, I run a tight ship but I know what people are like when they get off duty. As long as your activities don’t upset your duties then you are free to do as you wish.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. I’ll work as hard as I can at whatever Flight Chief Thorn gives me.” I replied, a little overwhelmed once more.

Turning towards the door, Holster continued; “You will be debriefed on your encounter earlier by Lieutenant Rossmann at 58:00 in the flight briefing room. It might take some time, so it might be an idea for you to get a couple of hours rest. Welcome aboard, Cadet.” The door locked shut behind her as she left and sitting on my bed I suddenly felt that her suggestion of sleep was a good one, the enormity of what had happened in such a short time slowly sinking in.

I had been accepted into the Flight Academy Advanced Program, gotten into a battle and watched two of my new friends be killed before being nearly killed myself, rescued by a Frigate and reassigned to it’s crew and now I was facing a lengthy debriefing by an Intelligence officer about stumbling across a Cannelli fleet. Most cadets would not get that much action in years!

Checking the shipboard time, 55:40 set an alarm for two hours time and was asleep before my head hit my pillow.

I was silently woken on time by the computer, the light in my quarters dimmed to a comfortable level. I was still feeling tired but the nap had helped a lot, as did the mug of coffee which had appeared in the sequencer when I awoke.

Though the uniform was still clean, out of habit I placed it into the sequencer when I stripped for cleansing. Taking advantage of the situation I looked at where I had been injured; my leg, arm and side were all exactly as I remembered them, and there was no sign of where I had been wounded.

The cleansing cycle felt wonderful, and I lingered in the zero gravity field for ten minutes before finally deactivating it. Another fresh uniform was waiting for me when I stepped out of the bathroom. I followed the directions the computer gave me upon leaving my quarters and soon found myself standing outside the doors to the Flight Briefing Room. As soon as I had signalled an entry request the door opened, revealing a room virtually identical to the briefing room back at the school. Standing at the front row was a Lieutenant in Command uniform who beckoned me to come down.

“I’m Lieutenant Rossmann, please take a seat.” He said in a very nasal voice when I approached. “Now, can you tell me what happened, from the beginning please.” He asked once I had sat down, and I began to recall the events leading up to my arrival on the ship.

The debriefing lasted two and a half hours, going over every small detail over and over and by the end of it I was exhausted. When the Lieutenant finally dismissed me I could think of nothing better than returning to my quarters and going to sleep. Unfortunately upon leaving the briefing room I found Ensign Dover waiting, with other plans.

“Finally!” He sighed when I emerged, “I’ve been waiting here for ages. Come on, you look like you need a drink.” He virtually dragged me through the ship ignoring my protests until we arrived at the bar.

“Two Vodkas!” He called to the barman as he sat me opposite him at a table. Moments later two glasses of Vodka were set down on the table, one of which Dover immediately downed.

“I’ve needed that all day.” He commented after shaking his head. “There’s been a lot of talk about you y’know.”

“Me?” I asked, ignoring the drink in front of me.

“Yes, you. The kid who scored five kills his first time behind the stick. The guys who were watching the scanner are making out that you’re like some super slippery hotshot, and the guys who have been bolting your ship back together are saying you’re some genius who managed to fly on one engine with half your systems gone.”

“I just got lucky. If that missile hadn’t been a dud I’d have been just as dead as my friends.”

A deep booming laugh came from behind me and a pair of large hands slapped my shoulders.

“Half of flying out there is luck, kid.” An equally deep voice said as its owner sat at one of the other chairs at the table. “Any pilot who claims never to have gotten lucky is sprouting a load of bullshit. I was watching what you were doin’ and lemme tell ya, flying like that is piloting kid, not luck.”

Even sitting down the voice’s owner, dressed in a Flight uniform with Commander insignia towered above me. He must have been at least 6’5”, but was also obviously all muscle too, his huge muscular hands in proportion with the rest of him.

“I see the doc got you patched back up, you were in a bit of a state when you were brought in.”

“Doc nothin’.” Dover interrupted, “That leg is all my work!”

“Bloody ‘ell. You’d best get back to the medibay quick, kid. If the doc let Benjie here loose on you then you’d best make sure he put everything back in again.” The Commander gave Dover a playful shove, which sent him flying from his chair to the floor, causing him to release another laugh.

“You best make sure you don’t get hurt, Griff, or you might fine a few parts missing from you once I’ve gotten my hands on you.” He retorted, dusting himself off.

“Wait, wait, wait.” I called, “Dover did he just say your name is Ben?” I asked, a grin developing.

“Yes, Ben Dover, go on have a good laugh.” He responded with an exasperated sigh, dropping his head into his hands.

“Did your parents not like you or what?” I began laughing, joining with Griff’s refreshed laughter.

“They just had a very odd sense of humour.” He said sharply. “Can we drop that now?”

“Hey kid, next time you’re in the medibay and he asks you to drop your trousers, make sure he isn’t doing the same.” Griff hooted.

“Oh yes, very funny. Would you like me to tell him about what happened with you on shore leave at Gamma Base?”

“You do and you’ll be paying a visit to the doc yourself!” Griff cautioned.

“Y’see Sven, Griff here can’t keep his big mouth shut. We were in the bar and he’d had a few too many.” Dover began, necking another Vodka which he had ordered.

“You’re not attached to those teeth are you, Dover?” Griff warned while taking a slug of his Lager.

“In walks the base flight chief, showing this bunch of greenies, fresh off the shuttle, around the base. Big guy here decides it’d be a good time to start singing a lovely little shanty about Gamma Base’s pilots drinking ability.”

“I’m warning you!”

“The chief don’t take this too lightly and challenges Griff to a drinking contest. Long story short, big guy can’t handle his drinks and ends up singing ‘I’m a little Teapot’ naked on the bar for FIVE HOURS. Showed everyone just how much of a LITTLE teapot he is too.”

Letting out a groan, Griff’s head fell to the table.

“I got dirt on everyone aboard this ship.” Dover announced proudly. “Anyone takes the piss outta my name, I got ten times the stuff on them. Hey, drink up kid, you’re already two behind!” He brought the attention to my untouched Vodka.

“I don’t really drink.” I replied. “I’ve never needed to.”

“Fine.” He replied, grabbing the glass and drinking it in one. “More for me!”

“Don’t drink?!” Griff shouted, once again laughing heartily, “You will by the time we get you home, kid! Nobody stays sober off duty out here for long.” He finished his beer and called for another round, myself ordering a lemonade when the barman dropped off the drinks.

“What the hell were you doin’ out here, kid?” Griff asked after a slug. “This ain’t exactly busy places.”

“We’d only just gotten our commissions and Cutthroats, we were going to shoot up a few rocks and just have a bit of fun flying.”

“Damn, great start to a career. Get shot to shit and scratch up five your first time out.”

“I hope that this isn’t what it’s going to be like all the time out here. I don’t think I could take that much action.” I replied taking a sip from my drink.

“Hah! That’s probably all the action we’ll see this tour. Nothin’ out here but rocks and dust. We might find a few pirates if we’re lucky but chances are you’re in for a dull six weeks.”

“Schpace is dull.” Dover commented, slightly slurring. “Nuf’n happens. Ever.”

“So what do you do all day?” I asked. The stories my dad and his friends had told me painted a picture of constant battles, raging with hundreds of ships and weapons fire everywhere. The way these two were describing it was more like long boring shifts followed by getting drunk in the bar.

“We fly. Around the ship. Over and over again. Then we land. Then we come here. Peace sucks. Back in the good old days at least you could always be sure of a skirmish every now and then. Sure you won’t have a drink?”

“Yea, sure.” I replied, taking another sip before a yawn came out of nowhere and suddenly my mind switched to feeling incredibly tired. “I’m gonna head to bed guys. See you later.”

“Schee ya Schfenn” Dover called over another glass of Vodka.

“Later, kid!” Griff added before turning to Dover and saying something which caused a spray of Vodka to erupt from his mouth and send him into a choking fit.

I had barely gotten out of the door before I heard another person calling for me.

Turning to look I saw a man in what looked to be a fairly new body, the ‘default’ features still visible in places, wearing a Flight uniform and Flight Chief insignia, three vertical gold bars with a silver wing either side, heading towards me from the opposite end of the corridor.

“Ah, Cadet Jones.” He announced when he approached. “Flight Chief Thorn. I’m your new commanding officer.” He waited a few moments before continuing in a fairly annoyed sounding tone; “Well what’s the matter, Cadet, don’t you come to attention when being addressed by a senior officer?”

Immediately realising that I had remained standing normally I snapped to attention. “Sorry, Sir.”

His face remained serious for a moment before he let out a small chuckle. “Don’t worry about it Cadet, I know you haven’t even started on your drill yet. We’ll get a few basics down while you’re aboard, besides I’m not too strict unless the Captain’s about, and sober.”

I declined to tell him that since my father had been such an avid military man I had been thoroughly taught drill since I was young, and that I had not paid the appropriate respect since I was so tired and not completely with it.

“Thank you, Sir.” I replied seriously, returning to a more at-ease stance.

“I just wanted to introduce myself for now, I’ll see you at 0300 on the flight deck tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there, Sir.”

Nodding, he turned and walked into the bar, leaving me to go back to what I was doing before he interrupted.

Stepping into the grav lift I felt as if I had never been so tired. The culmination of everything that had happened recently was still catching up with me, and the debriefing had brought just how much had happened into my mind. My door slid open as I approached and I barely had time to get out of my uniform before I collapsed onto the bed asleep.

The smell of coffee greeted me as I awoke. I could never really stand the smell of the stuff but since my first sip I had been hooked. Checking the time I decided that there was no need to rush; 0220. I had forty minutes to get ready and make my way to the flight deck. Again, I lingered in the zero gravity field of the cleanser, enjoying the sensation of weightlessness. After the rest and coffee I was feeling much better than last night and I was quite looking forward to duty on the ship. I greeted a few crew members with nods and ‘good mornings’ on my way through the ship.

Following the path through the ship that the computer laid out I soon found myself once more outside the briefing room. Moving through the empty briefing room I walked into the changing room and changed into a flight suit.

“Morning, Cadet” the Flight Chief greeted me when he walked into the changing room.

“Morning, Sir.” I replied cheerily.

“Nobody should be that cheery in the morning, Cadet; it makes us old folk depressed.”

“Sorry Sir, I’ll try to be more miserable in future.” I smiled.

“See that you do.” He chuckled. “Have you got any experience fixing up damaged ships?”

“Yes, Sir; I’ve rebuilt a Dagger from the ground up and spent a lot of time working with the school’s old ships.”

“Well that’s good. You see Cadet, some damned fool went and got himself shot up, now what’s left of his fighter is cluttering up my launch bay. I think it’s fitting he gets his hands dirty and fixes it up himself, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m sure he’s quite looking forward to getting under the skin of a Cutthroat.”I grinned; I had never seen the guts of such a modern fighter. Daggers were very basic in construction, Cutthroats had for more electronics and advanced internal systems and would be far more challenging to repair.

“I’ll have a couple of my engineers help you out, once its space worthy I’ll assign you to a flight wing.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

As the Flight Chief changed into his flight suit, I left the room. Though the layout of the briefing and changing rooms was the same as the school, entering the docking bay I found that it was completely different to anywhere I had been before; the sealed door from the briefing room led into a transparent air lock, from which I could see the expansive room.

I had thought that the school’s hangar was large but this was at least double the height and at least half again the width. On the wall to the right of the airlock was a massive external door, taking up the entire wall. On each wall either side of it was a grid of landing platforms; three rows of three on each side, allowing up to eighteen craft to be housed, though unless deployed on an offensive mission, only ten fighters and a handful of shuttles would be based aboard.

I was not standing at the bottom level, but on a central walkway branching off to the two other levels and to the landing platforms, terminating at each end with an airlock, the opposite one likely leading to another briefing and changing room. The wall opposite the external door was dominated by the Flight Control Room, where all flight operations and maintenance were coordinated, just above the walkway and connected by a stairway on either side.

On the platform directly opposite I could see the remains of my fighter, a sorry sight compared to the other pristine Cutthroats surrounding it.

Stepping out of the airlock I walked around the walkway, which was currently empty aside from a few engineers milling about before starting their shift, and climbed the stairway into the control room. The officer in charge greeted me as I entered and reported my presence and intentions, but otherwise not taking much notice; my guess was that the Flight Chief was coming to relieve him and he wanted to finish as soon as possible.

The sequencer pad was located directly below the control room, just off of the walkway, so with my fighter being on the same level I wouldn’t have to contend with any grav lifts to move any parts I needed.

When I reached my fighter I was struck by just how badly damaged it was; there wasn’t an inch that was not buckled and battered by the cannon rounds, and the right arm had been ripped off, leaving most of the internal wiring and circuitry hanging out. The cockpit bubble was gone, just the seat remaining surrounded by burned out controls and sickeningly, caked in quantities of blood. Around the back, it was apparent that both engines were write-offs and would have to be completely replaced. How I survived I had no idea, there was virtually nothing left.

A high pitched whine started as the atmospheric field activated, preventing the air inside being blown out when the external door was opened. Five pilots emerged from the airlock near to me and proceeded to split up; three climbing the ladder to the upper section and two to the other platforms on this level, where their own fighters were docked.

“You were lucky, Kid.” A familiar voice commented as it walked past, I glanced up in time to see Commander Griff pulling on his helmet and walking up to his fighter.

The external doors opened just as I had finished compiling a very long checklist of jobs that had to be done and five more cutthroats entered, setting gracefully down on the vacant platforms opposite. A few indistinguishable shouts were thrown across the bay, which were returned by Griff and his team, before the pilots left through the far airlock.

Moments later Griff’s team had lifted off and one by one left the bay before the doors closed and the field deactivated.

The first thing that I would have to do to start work on my cutthroat was to get it off the ground; with no landing gear it was sat on its belly, inaccessible. Above me, on the base of the top platform hung a tractor emitter, but looking around the pad I saw no obvious control.

Activating my neural link, I sent a message to whoever was currently running the control room asking about the emitter; moments later it activated and locked onto my fighter. After a few instructions to the crewman manning the station in the control room, it hovered a few feet from the ground, enough for me to access the base but low enough for me to climb on top of if need be.

The armour underneath was just as bad as everywhere else; pockmarked with dents and covered in punctures. The first priority was the structure, replacing the missing arm and shoring up the chassis. At initial glance it looked as if the arm had sheared off in front of the join to the body which meant it should be a fairly simple job of removing what little was left of the old one and bolting on the new. Upon closer examination, it seemed that much of the wiring that should run into the arm was missing, torn out from deeper into the craft, and that the cannon had also been completely ripped out, leaving a gaping hole; I was lucky that the emergency containment had stayed online otherwise the antimatter would have annihilated the craft.

Hoisting myself up I crawled inside, sequencing a torch from my tool belt and flicking it on I began an examination of the chassis. It wasn’t actually too bad, the armour stopped most of the enemy rounds penetrating the craft and those that had seemed to have missed the structural supports. The antimatter reservoir had been drained from the port cannon, and it appeared that there had been a few hits to it, meaning it would need replacing. Looking along the left arm, I could see light from the bay shining in through a multitude of breaches, though that only meant that the armour would have to be replaced.

At the rear of the craft, what would have been the omni matter tank was empty, residue on the different surfaces nearby indicating it was struck in the fight, and both engine casings were riddled with holes.

When I slid out of the gaping hole on the right hand side, I climbed onto the top of the fighter, into the white beam of light of the tractor beam. Since it only attracted inorganic substances I was safe but it would have to be shut off before I could remove the armour, meaning I would have to first replace the arm and landing gear.

There was no response when I tried accessing the systems to lower the gear at first, so I had to climb back inside. The releases for both rear struts had been destroyed, so I applied the brute force method and kicked each strut until it finally dropped. The remaining forward strut was completely seized and would not drop however much ‘persuasion’ I gave it. Sequencing a laser lance I cut through the support bolts holding it to the fighter and it soon fell from the bottom of the craft, still in retracted position.

Outside it was a simple matter of uncoupling the two rear struts and their wiring, leaving two holes where they would normally sit flush with the armour. Since I didn’t have an antigrav trolley and each leg weighed half a tonne I left them sat on the platform while I walked over and sequenced the three new ones. Returning to the ship I began repairs.