Chapter Two
Scattered about is a small crew consisting of you, Helena, a comms officer, another Engineer who you’ve met a couple times and a few others who will provide backup if needed. Their guns at the ready. The Captain is leading the squad this time. He steps back and stares at all of us before him, then he nods curtly, satisfied with his assembled Team.
“Listen up Ladies and Gents, we’re alone out here with no nearby assistance. Our Mission; Is to reach the Civilian Vessel and board the Ship. Once on board, we will assess the situation, look for survivors.” The Captain's gravelly voice echoed.
“Survivors!?” The comms officer, Sorn, squeaked, his face lost all color as he blanched.
“Yes. After we received the distress, we were in constant contact with them up until a few hours ago.” The seriousness of the situation wasn’t lost on any of us. We’re aware that the Sandarians are within the area so the probability that they have something to do with this is extremely high.
“Captain, what do we know so far?” His cool collective eyes land on you.
“Absolutely nothing, other than they had some malfunctions. I doubt it’s as simple as that, so keep your wits about you.” He turns to address the squad.
“That goes for all of you! No Heroics, no fancy stunts, you do you’ll end up dead. And trust me, we have plenty of corpses lying around so don’t add yourself to them. Understood!?” Captains voice was harsh and commanding, brooking no room for argument.
“Sir, Yes Sir!” We all say in unison.
The Sandarians have been more active in recent months. More skirmishes have been breaking out across the Stars, and the fatalities have been mounting. We’ve tried to negotiate, tried our hands with diplomacy. They sent the Diplomat back, butchered and broken to almost being unrecognizable, if it wasn’t for the Medallion all Diplomats wear. It’s a protection medallion, meaning they are free from harm and harm to one would cause outright war. Nobody has been stupid enough to openly seek war like this.Nobody has any clue to what their agenda is.
“Looks like it still is a Rescue Mission.” You finish clipping on a belt.
“There have been reports of Sandarian Battle Cruisers in the area, nothing concrete so it could just be false readings.” Sorn says. You shake your head, your long strands swishing back and forth with the movement. Humans are quick to dismiss, that’s why you always find myself most comfortable around machines.
Helena has her suit armor in place over her Jumpsuit. She bent and grabbed an assault blaster off the weapon rack lined against the wall. She turns, jams a magazine in with a soft click. She turns the rifle over and inspects it before turning to look over at you and Sorn.
Helena’s face turned serious. She’s looking at us but I can see that her eyes were really looking directly at me. I can feel the heat from her stare, that I felt the familiar butterflies take flight. “Or, it could be something, best to think the worst and prepare for the worst. Less surprises that way.”
Another Squadmate nearby was also geared and ready as they check their weapon as well. They come over to Helena, they pound their gloved fists.
“Stay safe.” The soldier says respectfully.
“Stay safe.” Helena says before turning to me. “Nell, stay by my side when we go down.” Helena looks at you with a grave and forceful expression. Here is where the difference lies between you and Helena. She’s the one prone to action, preferring combat than machines. Our paths branched when she became a member of the Security Force here on, Titanus. She can take down men twice her size, even an Ogling. An Ogling is an Orcish type, but with Reptilian qualities, also they are gross to look at, slimy, scaly, and blood thirsty. Something that others would run from in fear, but not Helena, she’d welcomed the challenge.
On cue to add to your darkening thoughts, the loading bay cautionary lights began flashing the room in a myriad of yellows and oranges. The loud horn echoed through the base as the base goes on alert for the coming Mission.
The Ferrin, which is a space shuttle used to transport from Space to planet side and for boarding other Vessels. The Ferrin rose from the trap door opening from the floor as a plat-form rose, bringing the Ferrin to a stop in front of us.
“Damn it!” Helena exclaims with a edge lacing the ridges of her emotions.
“Hel?” I ask curiously.
“Nothing…” She mumbled, but you could sense the tension and unease. She was perfectly fine before. You look over at the Ferrin, a smile toys the edges of your lips.
‘Is the mighty, Helena, afraid of the Ferrin? Can’t be flying since we ‘Are’ flying.” Helena turns with a stricken look, her eyes slightly glazed.
“They make so much racket! I feel like the hull will rip away at any moment. That is not how I want to go, I’d rather have my blaster and go down fighting, than a busted up ship breaking apart in mid-flight!
She was bordering on entering full blown panic mode, so you did the only thing you knew work in calming a frenzied, Helena. You grabbed her and hugged her fierce, her body softened and her erratic breathing evened out, her eyes remained somewhat wild.
“Thank you, Nell. I’m good, my head just got away from me.” She says through a smile, her mood lightening and changing course from the hole it originally was diving for.
“Haha, well you are the one with the vivid imagination. Oh, look, the Captain is back. Welp! Time to go!” I finish strapping my chest harness in, the various pouches filled with tools and ammo.
“Nel, here. Take this, just in case.” Helena holds out a beautifully crafted hilted blade, jutting from the fine leather sheath. “ Take this. If we get seperated, I’ll be worried, but if I know you have this on you, I’ll feel better.”
You pulled the beautiful, crafted blade from the sheath with a slow drawl. The blade was shades of neon blue swirling with the Ion fused steel. It’s blade hummed, it’s dangerous edges glistening.
When you looked up you were hit with such exuberance, like rough, diamonds piercing into my soul. Helena’s gaze was warm, but, hidden in the depths was worry. She’s worried and usually her intuition is always right. Hence the nickname, ‘Hell’, because when her intuition proves right, it’s usually accompanied by all Hell breaking loose.
“I will. Thank you. And don’t worry, we’ve got an amazing team. We’ll be fine.”
With a grateful smile you take the knife and attach it to your hip. At this point everyone on the squad is geared and ready. A side door opens and the Captain walks out. The Captain stood like a one man army. His bulky armor was fixed with all types of tech and gadgets. His arm heavily tattooed with what looks like a depiction of a massacre. His darkened scar stood out against his pale flesh, matching his silver hair.
He looked intimidating, like Hell incarnate, if Helena stood for hell, you’d place the Captain somewhere along the lines of the Devil himself.
“It’s time Boys and Girls! Board up!”
The Captain stands next to the Ferrin shuttle doors as the Squad files in and secure themselves to their seats, slamming the harnesses down into place to keep from rattling around like a marble in a box.
Helena grabs your hand and squeezes tight. It’s amusing to see how tough, badass, Helena is, can be terrified of flying in this heap of junk. You chuckle to yourself.
Metal creaked and groaned. You can hear steam billowing from somewhere, a hiss and pop as the landing gears are raised into the chassis. Metal grinded as the shuttle came to life and before you knew it, you were soaring out into Deep Space, the rush of stars slipping by.