CMDR LOG #12: 16-FEB-3302 - Homecoming
16 Feb 2016Reykur
"There is no such thing as paranoia. Your worst fears can come true at any moment."Back in the cockpit, I had to prepare for an immediate - and rushed - departure from Maia. The ship was apparently repaired, although nothing looked different. The systems weren’t complaining about malfunctions before putting in at Obsidian Orbital, so I don’t know why I should trust them that everything is alright now. For all I know, the repair crew just updated the service logs and left everything as it was. What do they care for a ship they’ll likely never see again?
I suppose I don’t have much of a choice. I need to get back to Phiagre as soon as possible. The last message I’d heard from anyone was that the Chancellor’s latest communicaide went over like a lead balloon when word of it reached the offices of Phiagre Industry. I admit that I’m proud of Dear Leader. Just enough machismo to look like a veiled threat, while not so much as to look confident of the outcome. The perfect line between weakness and strength. Perfect enough to make her enemies think they had the upper hand.
Clearing the dock, I plotted my route and transmitted it to Phiagre along with an ETA. If the Asp broke down mid-flight, hopefully someone would think to come look for me. With the massive fuel scoop, in an all out sprint, I should be back quickly.
Over subspace, all was quiet. Was something going wrong? The war had begun - I knew that much, and, the struggle had to have been raging for five days now. Five days! Why did I ever leave? To go sightseeing? Look at some damned barnacles? Fool.
As I jumped closer towards my destination, the silence made me sweat. What kind of Phiagre would I jump back into? Would our capital be routed? Dear Leader set to stand trial for treason? Assassinated? Would a System Authority sympathetic to PI drag me out of supercruise and execute me on-sight for my crimes? Where the fuck was everyone?
A distortion in a comms panel caught my eye, and as I parked in the bright corona of a star to refuel, I walked over to it. The flicker was gone, but something tickled the back of my mind. Surely someone would’ve broadcast something if things were going sideways. Some sliver of information. A plea for help, a notice of a bounty on my head. Something.
I flicked the monitor and sighed. The optimism I’d had mere days ago had given way to despair. How clever I was, pressing us into this conflict. By all rights we had the upper hand, but treachery runs in two directions. Had we been undone from within?
As I turned back to the cockpit, the flicker buzzed behind me again. I spun back to it.
“ASTRA - Systems check. Now.” The computer blithely hummed away, ignoring me.
“ASTRA, acknowledge!”
Silence. Shit. Why isn’t the ship responding?
“God dammit, ASTRA, wake up!”
“Yes Commander?” Relief and fury raged through me like a tempest. At least she was answering something.
“What the fuck is going on? Run a Systems Check, immediately.”
More silence. I put my head against the wall and closed my eyes, doing quick mental calculations of how long the ship could remain in the star's corona. Without the computer, it wouldn't be long enough to expect help. “ASTRA, can you hear me?” The question was so quiet, it was more a prayer than a query.
“Yes Commander.” I spun towards the speakers, as if the proximity would make her understand me better.
“Why aren’t you acknowledging commands?”
“No commands have been issued, Commander.”
“I see. ASTRA, what time is it?”
“It is 16-FEB-3302, 06:37.” I passively noted an almost inquisitive blip from the systems behind me. After a brief moment, ASTRA decided to speak up again. “Commander, your heart rate is elevated, and you seem to be perspiring without any known cause. I recommend withdrawing from the star to a safe distance and performing a full bio-scan.”
I gawked at the computer. “I’m sweating because you’re scaring the shit out of me, ASTRA.”
“My apologies, Commander.”
“What is the status of our fuel?”
“The ship is at 78% fuel capacity, and scooping 155 kilograms of Hydrogen per second. Fuel tanks should be full within the minute.”
“Alright, and the status of the ship?”
“Ship integrity is nominal.”
“And the status of the systems?”
The silence was deafening. I jumped back into the seat and noted the fuel was almost topped off. Glancing back at the comms panel, blithely reporting a lack of communications, I had to face the facts. The ship was malfunctioning, just as I feared.
“ASTRA, are you able to perform systems checks?”
“Negative, Commander.”
“What the hell, ASTRA! Couldn’t you have told me that?”
“Commander?”
“Fuck it. Are there any messages for me on subspace?”
I mouthed the response even as she said it. “Negative, Commander.”
“You’re goddamn worthless, ASTRA, you know that?”
“The market value of this craft according to the galactic average across all systems…”
“Shut up, ASTRA. Just try not to get us stranded. Make ready to jump.”
“Acknowledged.”
“Actually, nevermind. I’ll pilot manually.”
“All ship controls transferred to the cockpit. Standing by.”
As I lit the FSD, I began to feel hope creep back into my thoughts. They could’ve been sending messages for ages and I’d never have known.
Each jump towards Phiagre was gut wrenching as I half-expected a malfunction to land me inside a star. Each jump was a relief when I didn’t. And finally, with one jump out, my heart was ready to beat out of my chest. I activated the FSD and jumped.
I’m not sure what I expected to see when I came out of witchspace. In my mind I thought I’d see the emptiness of space ablaze, the wrecks of my wingmates’ ships floating in their eternal tumble towards oblivion. Instead, I was greeted by none of that. In fact, I was greeted by nothing - no System Authority, no panic, no hostility. All was serene and calm. As I guided the ship towards Greeboski’s Outpost, the lack of communications was haunting. Phiagre should be bustling right now. Ships had to be out there, and yet I couldn’t see or hear any of them.
Dropping out of supercruise at the station, I fully expected a battle. Instead, I was greeted as if nothing had changed. Hailing the docking authority for landing clearance, a less than friendly voice answered me.
“Throttle down immediately and identify yourself, pilot.”
The tone conveyed the seriousness of the situation. I obeyed and keyed up the mic. “This is Commander Reykur, aboard the Exodus. What’s the problem?”
“Your ship isn’t transmitting identification, Commander. You’re cleared to dock in bay 38, where you’re to power down and await a security team to escort you.”
Several Vipers had formed on my wing, their weapons deployed and trained on me. “Right away, Greeboski Dock.”
I guided the Asp to the pad and set her down. As I began powering down the ship’s systems, a jerk under my feet told me that Docking Control was lowering the pad where I imagined a team of security personnel was waiting to take me… who knows where. Sure enough, as the pad slid into position, there was the security team. I sighed, grabbed my jacket off the railing, and headed toward the back of the ship. With a final look behind me, I lowered the gangway and headed down.
At the head of the security team was a familiar figure. CMDR Coragon, a knowing smirk on his face, gestured for the security team to lower their weapons and approached the Exodus. Clasping hands in a brief handshake, I couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes.
“Jesus, Coragon, you look like shit.” I walked towards the security force as he fell in step beside me. Approaching the security team, I noted the Sovereign Justice Collective colors on their uniforms. All was not lost, then. Without a word, the squad leader presented a biometric scanner. Submitting to the scan, the device chirped and confirmed my identity, and with a signal from the squad leader, the team snapped an about-face and marched out of the hangar.
Turning back to Coragon, I gestured to the station around us. “I see Greeboski’s is still ours. What’s the status of the war?”
Obviously confused, Coragon paused in his tracks. “You don’t know? We’ve been sending updates for days.”
Giving him a look, I made it obvious I was not in the mood for games. “There was a malfunction on my ship. Look, I don’t have time to get into it. I need to get the Aurora Ray ready for battle, and I should probably check in with Veyder. He’s probably drafting a burn-notice as we speak for abandoning my post.” I hung a turn towards Veyder’s office, only to be stopped by Coragon’s hand on my shoulder.
“Veyder’s not here. To be honest, I’d hoped you knew where he was, but that’s neither here nor there. As for your Fer-de-Lance, I think it can wait.”
An edge came to my voice. “Wait? What the hell is going on, Commander?”
“The war is over, Reykur. Let’s go grab a drink and I’ll fill you in.”