“Sici … status?” Gasped words briefly replaced the sound of alerts on consoles and the groan of metal in the hull. “Slipstream exited prematurely due to excessive hull strains. Left and right stabilizers are heavily damaged and barely still attached. Half the ship systems are offline and the rest are critically damaged. Lieutenant we are running out of both time and options.”
The lieutenant breathed deeply. The ship atmosphere was thin to conserve what was left of the backup oxygen supply. “How much time is left on power and my oxygen?” Her breath frosted part of her facemask. Shards of plastic and metal floated by, broken off the gash left through the command room. The cold was overbearing. The compression clothes worn under uniform left the head and hands exposed to vacuum when the ship depressurized. “The rebreathers are not viable long term. Your unit has no more than 12 hours left in it. There may be additional filter cartridges elsewhere on the ship.” Sici’s voice was programmed to be stoic and unwavering in combat to keep crews level. In this time of distress it was failing and the computer began to show an almost-mortal emotional response.
“How long will power hold out? What are our options?” Lieutenant Daar’Tuura punched at a half-working console waiting for a report. “The reactor is compromised and slowly losing power. As levels drop, we will progressively lose the remaining systems. We will lose capacity for an engine burn in roughly eight hours and the reactor strain of thrust limits the vessel to one maneuver. Our damaged communications systems are broadcasting distress signals in every mode and frequency available and will lose power in roughly twenty four hours. Lieutenant … I don’t know what we can do.”
“Don’t get choked up on my Sici. Stay with me.” The lieutenant’s own desperation was almost more than she could handle. If she hyperventilated she’d burn through her remaining rebreather filter in twice the time. “Yes Lieutenant,” the system answered, “I can execute a thruster burn to bring us into low orbit, but the remains of the vessel are too structurally compromised to even attempt a crash landing. We can- … only hope for rescue.” The Lieutenant was a fighter but now as she faced her own mortality, her strength was beginning to fail. She nodded faintly, pulling herself around the bridge. The gravity systems had been shut off to preserve power. “Yes um… do it.” Her throat was closing up on her and her vision was beginning to blur. Her head throbbed from an injury she didn’t remember sustaining. “Understood. Are you okay Lieutenant?”
“I’m … I’m fine, Sici. Plot the maneuver.”
“I sense deception and distress Lieutenant Muriel. You should rest.”
“I can rest when I’m dead,” an old phrase she often said to her crew who sometimes showed concern at her working double shifts constantly, now held a cold air of truth to it that rattled the lieutenant to her core, “might be… sooner tha-“
“Lieu-… I…” Sici had nothing. Even in all her computerized intelligence, emotion and compassion she could find no words for a fellow soldier staring down the infinite darkness. With loss of connection to the relay network, she could not resync everything that had happened since connection loss back to the main network. It was the closest thing to death an AI could go through. “I’ve plotted the maneuvering burn. T minus ninety minutes.”
The lieutenant battled the console and her numbing fingers to quickly make a backup of Sici’s memory matrix. She tucked the data card into an inside jacket pocket. Her head hurt more and her ability to see straight weened. “Sici … wake me up if rescue comes,” she whispered. “Lieutenant? Lieutenant!” the computer panicked as Muriel passed out and floated gently around the command room. In ninety minutes the ship would make one final thruster burn into a relatively low orbit that would become its final resting place, with no rescue on its way.
(Alright @Eventua, this has been a bit too long coming but I'm finally done with it. :) You can safely fast-forward past thruster burn as needed. The ball is in your court for rescue.)
The lieutenant breathed deeply. The ship atmosphere was thin to conserve what was left of the backup oxygen supply. “How much time is left on power and my oxygen?” Her breath frosted part of her facemask. Shards of plastic and metal floated by, broken off the gash left through the command room. The cold was overbearing. The compression clothes worn under uniform left the head and hands exposed to vacuum when the ship depressurized. “The rebreathers are not viable long term. Your unit has no more than 12 hours left in it. There may be additional filter cartridges elsewhere on the ship.” Sici’s voice was programmed to be stoic and unwavering in combat to keep crews level. In this time of distress it was failing and the computer began to show an almost-mortal emotional response.
“How long will power hold out? What are our options?” Lieutenant Daar’Tuura punched at a half-working console waiting for a report. “The reactor is compromised and slowly losing power. As levels drop, we will progressively lose the remaining systems. We will lose capacity for an engine burn in roughly eight hours and the reactor strain of thrust limits the vessel to one maneuver. Our damaged communications systems are broadcasting distress signals in every mode and frequency available and will lose power in roughly twenty four hours. Lieutenant … I don’t know what we can do.”
“Don’t get choked up on my Sici. Stay with me.” The lieutenant’s own desperation was almost more than she could handle. If she hyperventilated she’d burn through her remaining rebreather filter in twice the time. “Yes Lieutenant,” the system answered, “I can execute a thruster burn to bring us into low orbit, but the remains of the vessel are too structurally compromised to even attempt a crash landing. We can- … only hope for rescue.” The Lieutenant was a fighter but now as she faced her own mortality, her strength was beginning to fail. She nodded faintly, pulling herself around the bridge. The gravity systems had been shut off to preserve power. “Yes um… do it.” Her throat was closing up on her and her vision was beginning to blur. Her head throbbed from an injury she didn’t remember sustaining. “Understood. Are you okay Lieutenant?”
“I’m … I’m fine, Sici. Plot the maneuver.”
“I sense deception and distress Lieutenant Muriel. You should rest.”
“I can rest when I’m dead,” an old phrase she often said to her crew who sometimes showed concern at her working double shifts constantly, now held a cold air of truth to it that rattled the lieutenant to her core, “might be… sooner tha-“
“Lieu-… I…” Sici had nothing. Even in all her computerized intelligence, emotion and compassion she could find no words for a fellow soldier staring down the infinite darkness. With loss of connection to the relay network, she could not resync everything that had happened since connection loss back to the main network. It was the closest thing to death an AI could go through. “I’ve plotted the maneuvering burn. T minus ninety minutes.”
The lieutenant battled the console and her numbing fingers to quickly make a backup of Sici’s memory matrix. She tucked the data card into an inside jacket pocket. Her head hurt more and her ability to see straight weened. “Sici … wake me up if rescue comes,” she whispered. “Lieutenant? Lieutenant!” the computer panicked as Muriel passed out and floated gently around the command room. In ninety minutes the ship would make one final thruster burn into a relatively low orbit that would become its final resting place, with no rescue on its way.
(Alright @Eventua, this has been a bit too long coming but I'm finally done with it. :) You can safely fast-forward past thruster burn as needed. The ball is in your court for rescue.)
1x Laugh
