Duty, 27: Starlight
15 Jan 2023Meowers
So, my recent days... Rather unsettling. Had some minor skirmishes with the Thargoids here and there, in the direct vicinity of the settlement, easy stuff. We weren't bothering the local pilots much, other than telling them to stand ready, our forces were more than enough to deal with those small packs, however... Things seemed odd. They preferred to retreat rather than fight, so kills we scored were mostly, um, arse-shots. Were they... evaluating our forces? Maybe. Anyway, I told that to Matthew and to the officers and, they thought the same.
Thing is... We cannot overpower the Thargoids completely. Not by any means. We should keep sending a wing or two to scare their little parties off, but any pitched all-out battle, even if won, will be the last one we win. We're on our own here, sitting and waiting until that wave... incursion... whatever, dissipates. Making sure that we are that something that stands between those civilians and the Thargoids, something that can take the fight, protecting them or at least giving them a chance to flee. And nothing holds the Thargoids from accumulating everything they have in the neighbourhood and sending it straight at us. The only thought that might keep a person sane is, maybe... They're trying to minimise their own losses too. As much as it was in the Pleiades, every killed Thargoid here means one less Thargoid somewhere else, and they may need more forces in more important places. So... We should stay being 'less important place' on their... Whatever they have for maps.
Also, got our long-range comms up and running and being sending data from the sensors to the AXDF command entire day yesterday. From... uh, about thirty per cent of our remaining sensors. And a general status report. So, received an answer this morning. To say, it wasn't very uplifting: both of our carriers are in Witch Head Nebula at the moment, dealing with some serious shit, so we should, um, keep keeping our heads down. And they 'will send support if things get ugly'. How much ugly? Hm. Looks like losing almost an entire array of surveillance stuff and being annoyed by the aliens on a daily basis isn't 'ugly enough'.
And, yeah, the sabotage evidence. Sent copies of that too, to let the top brass know what those alien-loving weirdos are doing here last couple of months. Apparently, they have been waiting for something like that: all those 'meetings' with pacifist negotiators were just a time waste, but now they could be arrested and sent to their respective authorities along with a proper accusation. And those who actively resist, putting AXDF assets and personnel at risk even more, could be interrogated separately. Oh. I hope this interrogation will be as much invasive as possible.
So, about 'things getting ugly'... One particular emergency signal became the news of the day. Civilian ship, in-system, near the navigation beacon, looks like they jumped in and sent it right on arrival. My wing was dispatched to investigate...
It was an Anaconda-class vessel, a large ship. And, by the looks of it, it took a heavy beating, it has been floating motionlessly a few light seconds away from the beacon, with low heat signatures, engines powered down and the orbit declining slowly. Countless hull breaches, scorch marks, and... yeah, acid-induced corrosion. The ship has been attacked by the Thargoids not too long ago. Once we got closer to the damaged Anaconda, a transmission was sent from the ship. A old man's voice said:
"Thank you for responding. Please, board the ship, retrieve the datapad from the bridge and read the last file. I think it might help you. The main airlock is open."
He left his ship with an open airlock? What the heck? Carefully, I flew closer to take a look at the bridge, and... It was empty. Crap. That guy must've trapped himself somewhere else, in some compartment with the atmosphere still remaining, or he's relying on his suit air supply... Which is going to run out soon. Our sensors were clear, nobody except us and that Anaconda, so I told my pilots to stay close and keep their eyes open, while I prepared to board that strange ship, manoeuvring to set Marshmallow floating near the airlock.
Safety cord - check, jetpack - check... And, when I was about to leave my cockpit, the voice sounded once more. Same words, same tone, same speed... It was a recording. Rifle and ammo - check. If that's a trap set by the Thargoid kissers, I'd better be prepared...
The main corridor was empty, even the emergency lights were off. The air has been gone a long ago, and looks like the pilot just shut the annoying emergency down. However... The temperature was close to normal and slowly rising, as Anaconda's thermal control was shut down as well, and, being that close to the star... I'd better hurry. This place isn't exactly hospitable, but it will turn into totally not hospitable in an hour. Pieces of the puzzle were clicking into each other in my mind as I walked through the empty corridor to the bridge. That ship took a severe damage from the Thargoids, jumped into this system, and then the pilot closed himself somewhere, knowing the ship wasn't able to maintain neither atmosphere nor temperature anymore. And he turned everything down to make the Thargoids think the ship is dead. And... Seems like he's been chased and expected them to return, so he didn't take an escape pod.
However... Some pieces were missing. Why HIP 29991? How did the pilot got to know about us? Why haven't he mentioned where he could be found? Or was it in the datapad memory? It's a long way to be rescued then, I have to reach the bridge, found the data, read it... Maybe he's in the personal cabin, or already in the escape pod, but still not ejected, waiting for us...
Bent bulkheads, open compartment doors, broken equipment, floating pieces of metal and wires... Nothing was pointing at the pilot's possible whereabouts. And no life signs on the sensors. I tried to hail the pilot via suit comm device, checked my nearest contacts screen as I walked through the empty corridor of an empty ship... No result. Only bent, damaged metal and space vacuum.
Then I found a private cabin door. It was intact, closed, and locked from the inside. I tried to hail the pilot on the comms again and again, tried hitting the door, tried pushing it as hard as I could... Without any success again. The only way to open it from the outside was... using the rifle to apply superheated plasma rounds to the door. But, if the pilot is still alive, but unconscious, it could wound or even kill him. And it will definitely vent the air out, if it's still remaining in the cabin.
So I went to the bridge and instantly found a datapad, it was attached to the pilot's seat and clearly visible from the entry. He wanted it to be found quickly. And... Reading the latest text file made me understand what happened here...
* * *
"This text was written by the pilot of this exploration vessel, Patrick Branham, with an assistance of the co-pilot, exobiology specialist and a beloved wife, Linda Branham. If you are reading this, then we are already dead.
We've spent two months scanning systems in this region, gathering cartography data and exobiological samples, until the Thargoid presence became too dangerous. Our ship is equipped with Guardian technology FSD booster, and, possibly, it was the reason for them to attack us so relentlessly. We took all the needed precautions, however, what we didn't know is that the Thargoids started targeting and attacking humans on the surface of uninhabited planets, far away from any possible sources of ammonia or other usual Thargoid points of interest.
They attacked our ship when we were on the ground, and, apparently, they aimed right at our FSD. The drive sustained heavy damage in the first attack, and the booster had been completely broken, thus drastically reducing our jump range. We took off, and even more shots hit our crippled ship before we managed to jump to a random neighbouring system in a desperate attempt to escape. During damage assessment and automated repairs, we were interdicted and attacked again. We tried to make our way to the nearest starport, but it was five jumps away from our position, with such a short jump range. During subsequent attacks we lost the atmosphere support, the coolant started to leak away too quickly, and even the repair modules were destroyed. We simply couldn't repair so much damage being constantly attacked. And we couldn't make these jumps, lacking needed fuel, with our fuel scoop badly damaged and atmosphere pressure falling. So we had to make that bitter decision.
During our explorations of this particular region, we kept discovering that an automated scanning equipment had been placed in almost every system, and each unit of that array was periodically activating and working on a Thargoid-related signal frequencies. While the sensors weren't much of an interest, it made us think that an anti-xeno operation base or an automated installation is located somewhere nearby. And, with the Thargoid presence rising, we found out that more and more of those sensors stopped working. And one system, HIP 29991, was placed right in the middle of that coverage, and contained more equipment in total.
Also, it made me definitely nervous and probably led to that fatal outcome: during the exploration, we kept picking up Thargoid signals in every system in approximately 120 ly radius. We should've returned to the human-controlled space, but both decided to stay for a little longer. Looks like this 'longer' isn't going to be so 'little'.
When we arrive in HIP 29991, an automatic emergency beacon will be activated, and I hope our ship will be found quickly. This datapad also contains information about Thargoid pod fields we've managed to discover recently, with respective coordinates.
Now, as I write this, the air is running low in our suits, we have no more than three minutes to live. We are going to lock ourselves in the private compartment, hold our hands and let the inevitable to happen. We've been together for decades, and together we will go. To one who reads this file: please, do not open the cabin, we want no funeral and no people weeping around our dead bodies. Every living being is made of starlight, and we are returning home."
* * *
I took the datapad, turned off the emergency beacon and left the ship. With its beacon, drive and sensors powered off, nobody will ever find it. And, with its orbit slowly deteriorating, it will disappear in the next couple of years. Mr. and Mrs. Branham, you will return home.
To the starlight.
* * *
HIP 29991 star.