((Ok I split this post into two, AB you’ll get your posts soon and Newsun I need your response to my post.)) [b]DACYRIA HIGH ORBIT, LOGISTICS STATION [/b] --- The logistics station was quiet while the crew waited for a reply, the distant humming of screens and generators seemed to grow from a whisper to a commanding drone. The silence gripped everyone with its invisible claws. Still it would be that the warning sirens were quick to break that grip and force their own laws in. Jason looked around more surprised than afraid as the lights in the room turned deep red and the sirens blared. People were looking at their screens in a panic trying to find out what had triggered the alarm. Eventually a young woman spoke out from a few chairs over, “Sir we have an engagement some distance out, it’s hard to tell but it seems the Earth ships have engaged a-“ Her voice was cut short, and for a moment Jason saw the panic in her eyes, there was something more to this, something worse about it. That much was obvious in her expression. Jason stood up and pulled an errant strand of hair from his face that had fallen there before he shouted over the siren, “Out with it! Also can someone turn off these damned sirens so I can get a clue what’s going on?” The response from the young woman was hesitant, grim, and dulled by the noise of the sirens, “Sir, they are shooting… Shooting each other sir, they are shooting each other. We are reading a vast debris cloud forming and a large volume of errant shots from the battle.” Some seconds after Jason heard her the sirens were deactivated and he was able to think. He couldn't be sure what was happening but perhaps irrationally he was relived he didn't have to go the alien ship for the time being. That was when another voice shouted and added yet more terror to the already dire situation, blocked from Jason’s view by the central hologram the man speaking sounded like a frightened child. Regardless his words were coherent enough, “Sir! We have the a-alien ships closing in on us and our scans are being blocked… On top of that we predict fifteen minutes before we impact the debris field! The hell are we going to do?” Jason sat back into his chair; the room was once again full of panicked people. Earthers were tearing themselves apart all over again and an unknown species was bearing down on the station. Jason finally spoke his commands, loud but not angry, he spoke with a confidence beyond his own feelings, “Raise the debris shield and combat shield, and direct the combat toward the enemy ship. It’s likely the debris can handle the junk. In addition I want you to relay the situation to MSC control and issue stop orders to all ships; they are to hold position until they hear differently.” After that it took a moment but Jason’s orders were carried out. The only thing left to wonder now was if he should open gun ports and arm the defense system before the unknown ships got into range. If he did he would either be saving or dooming more than seven hundred people. No… He saw the glancing look from the weapons officer every so often, that anticipation of battle and that constant terror that Jason would give the order. It was a look he noticed everyone had, they were afraid. Jason wondered… These ships were not hostile moments ago; things were fine before the damn Earthers started killing themselves. Damn them all for this. The dots loomed closer on the central hologram, small blips hovering above that great sphere of Dacyria. It was then Jason made his decision, to do nothing. He noticed the leader, a ship represented by bright red dot approaching the station, it was only a second, but Jason wondered if he would ever see his daughter again as the red dot crossed into range of the station and held position, the energy readings of guns were visible on every man and woman’s console if they had bothered to look. The ships were armed. Ready. Yet… They had not fired, time was at a stop. For a moment not a soul dared breathe what they knew could be their last. Then a voice which Jason recognized as the young woman a few meters away called out, “Transmission received! It reads as follows. ‘Stand down any weapons, Lower your defensive shields and explain yourselves’. We have not received any other transmission Sir.” A single deep breath resonated though the crowd of people. Jason shot back back quickly, “Patch me through, now!” It took a mere second and a nod from the woman told him to speak, “Unknown vessel, we will comply with your demands and lower combat shields. As for the incident currently taking place-.“ Jason paused; perhaps it was best if he didn't divulge the ships identity. He continued, “We are unaware as for the cause of the conflict and its participants are as of now unidentified. We are in no way responsible for the actions of these [i]foreign[/i] vessels. If you are still hesitant I would be willing to board your ship to ease your fears. I am sure this conflict will end shortly.” Another lie that was, the conflict had never ended; it would never end so long as two men drew breath. As for its participants, they would always be men, humans, children of Earth. So now Jason joined them in peril as he condemned himself to walk, either to his salvation, or to his doom. His weapons officer looked relived when Jason looked down to him, however there was anxiety in the room. A man across the room spoke out softly, “Sir… Are we really to drop combats? How can you even consider going over there now?” Jason responded with a much harder tone, “You [i]will[/i] drop the combats if you want to live. As for me, worry about yourself. Nothing has changed here and I want you all to act like this is any other day. Understood?” A single harmonious voice comprised of many responded, “Yes, sir.” Jason looked down to his console and saw the combat shield fall. He couldn't help but think, the debris shield might take one hit if they fired. Maybe. [b]DACYRIA HIGH ORBIT, SHUTTLE CRAFT[/b] --- Marco had been hunched over looking at the notepad for some time; he had started to make progress at the ever morbid letter when he heard a peculiar warning alarm from above. A glance and he knew it was too late. A collision alert, he blinked and in a second Marco felt the thud of impact. A micro particle he thought, still the impact was loud enough that Marco sighed and laid the notepad down; when he looked directly at the monitor he saw it, the world gone mad. Earth ships were tearing each other to pieces and he was less than a minute from flying into it, the impact was no micro particle either, a stray shot had grazed his shuttles hull. Marco defaulted to his old training and snapped into his seat, securing himself in as he did it. A flick of one of the few manual switches in the shuttle and the autonavigator was off. A small stick protruded from a raised platform beside his seat. Marco breathed deeply and grabbed the control stick to his right. The hud stated it simply, ten seconds before he entered a battle zone. “Fuck.” He wrenched on the control stick, sending his ship into a sharp bank to avoid a shell that was flying toward him. Back and forth he went, only on the outskirts of the battle and he had already narrowly survived the ordeal. Marco became fixated on the hud, every red flag and every warning light. The emergency alarm was on but Marco had long forgotten its noise. It was but a moments failure and he missed a flag. Marco plowed into the object. Red. The entire monitor went red and Marco flinched at the impact. The bright lights from the battle gave the red screen an ominous sparkle. Marco hardly had a second to comprehend it, but that was all it took. They were all dead. Dozens of them, most of the flags were bodies. Marco quickly looked back at the monitor, the bombardment of micro particles from the battle had cleaned off most of the red, though the impacts had made the shuttle vibrate violently. Marco struggled to maintain the shuttles path as he dodged and darted, ever evading the point defense weapons firing at him blindly. Then the hud flashed as a weapons system locked onto him, Marco panicked, how could he stand a hope in hell against that? In his confused anger he slammed the cargo bay doors control. To his luck a backup fuel tank blasted out with a haul of phosphorous, the self-oxidizing fuel mixed with the phosphorus and for ever the shortest moment the blinding flash of the explosion out shone the battle itself. He had bought the time he needed by stupid, dumb luck. Marco cursed himself for that risk. The shuttle blasted ever forward and Marco wondered if he was bound to die in another man’s war. Worse even than if the pirates had killed him. Worse than most anything really, to die as collateral. To be remembered as a digit in a spreadsheet presented to some cold General a million miles away. Still, in a few frantic seconds the madness began to shrink behind him, the lights of battle and the splatter of bodies Marco decided were safer to hit than shells faded. He focused himself and pulled the shuttle up, smashing into the atmosphere so hard it wrenched Marco’s neck and made his vision blur. The flight back was another, longer blur as Marco piloted the shuttle with the horrid pain in his neck and his vision impaired, green was all he could discern of what was beneath him, and he could hardly see the controls he pressed, even then the blur was getting worse. Struggling against his every instinct to pull up Marco forced the descent, even in his pain. Eventually the MFC strip was in sight, a set of grey blobs before him. In a haze Marco searched for the display button to deploy the landing gear but he could not distinguish any of them, they blended together. Marco pulled his head back up as the pain began to fade from the adrenaline in his system, only worsening his vision. He forced the shuttle further down, closer and closer to the strip. Then there was a thud. Blurred colours faded to black and Marco wondered if he really was a fool.