Player: Zidane2005

“Damage Report!” Captain Tribal could be excused for shouting on such a small bridge. LT Killian could still be seen with shaky hands at the helm. Able, but shaky nonetheless. Shaking his head, Ops Officer Lt. Havus dialed into his displays to discern just what was left of the ship beyond the bridge and thrusters.
“Shields are down to 60%, but recovering. Power fully operational. Aft thrust down 45%, Dorsal Thrust is gone entirely. Weapons appear online and functional, but our conveyor network appears to be severed in multiple locations.” They could like survive for the time being, but those conveyor networks were a *major* problem. As a Destroyer, the SFM Unwearied Heart was tasked with being nimble enough to provide temporary distractions and assault any targets of opportunity. Without steady ammunition, fire support wouldn't be nearly as effective.
Captain Tribal keyed communications to Fleet Comm. “I've lost all forward, or rather, all upward facing thrust. But I'm otherwise okay. I also don't have-” the comm key was cut off, likely by a higher priority message. A frequent occurance in combat operations, despite every rule in the book attempting to correct that error. “Conveyor network is broken. Requesting permission to approach for repairs.” Deactivating Fleet Comm, the Captain issued his next orders.
“Helm, slow to maneuvering speed. Keep an eye out for any of those sneaky bastards worming their way through to focus fire, but otherwise, make for the station.” He pressed the key for Fleet Comm again, “Unwearied Heart is still functional. I just need to repair the corre…uh, repair some conveyors so I have access to my MAC again.” Lt. Havus instinctively returned to his displays, attempting to calculate the most dire repairs needed. Sorting through the active, Havus suddenly stopped and turned to the Captain.
“Sir, our projector is out. Any repairs we make are going to have to be manual.” Sitting there for a moment, Captain Tribal turned his chair and stood up, adjusting his belt. “Good. That'll make prioritization an easy task. We won't be the only ones needing repairs within the hour, I'm sure. Killian, you have the bridge until I get back. Keep her as steady as you can.
“Havus, pull up the conveyor networks and relay it to my HUD. I'll need it.”
“Aye, Captain,” Havus responded, and went to work interfacing the onboard computer. Anything and everything was spotty in the heat of combat, and the Hellspawn weren't finished with this assault. Not by a long shot. “Ready, sir.”
“That looks like breaks into three isolated networks. Are those all still functional?”
“Yes, sir. Our dorsal and upper aft thrusters are isolated from hydrogen input, and our forward weapons batteries, including our MAC cannon, are isolated as well.”
“Then I have my work laid out for me.” And with a sudden collectedness, the Captain left the bridge and headed toward the airlock.
There they were. Killian watching to perform emergency evasive maneuvers at a moment's notice, and Havus, suddenly absent a task to perform. All he could do was watch the Captain. It was always interesting watching him work. Havus had learned everything about the faction logistics from the Captain. Thruster capabilities, Weapon Capacities, Refinery Yields, all on spreadsheets that would make a lesser mind vomit.
“Alright, give me SITREP of every vessel.” VADM Pemberton, unmistakable even in broken comms, rang the order through, overriding all other messages. Havus saw the Captain freeze in place on the HSW Outpost. After a few seconds, a text message came through to the Fleet Comm channel; “Unwearied Heart; Sustained significant damgae. Conveyor net broken in two places. Half rear thrust, zero up thrust. Working repairs.” The second the message was sent, Captain Tribal was on the move again, and VADM Pemberton rang through on Ship Comms”Zidane, do you need help putting a repair projector on your ship?“
“Not trying to put a repair projector on my ship. I'm literally just connecting the ve- the conveyors. That's literally the only problem.”
“Okay. Okay, good deal.”
It was not literally the only problem, but it was most of the problems. Open combat was one thing, where you had a ship to protect yourself and each other with. And there was even something to be said of the HSW Outpost and its truly massive shields. Still, hydromanning to fix ones own ship in the middle of battle was dangerous, and in some cases, reckless.
“Incoming, incoming, incoming! Hellspawn incoming for ramming run! Ramming run!”
Then, the last thing he ever heard him say; “Dark, if you go inside, there's a conveyor access-“And he was gone. No fanfare, no grand speech. Simply there one second and gone the next. This was the reality of battle after battle that SFM was stuck in, that the Berruti Alliance had all but abandoned them to.
There were times these memories kept Havus awake. Not LT Havus anymore. LT Havus, scarred by the loss of his closest mentor and bearing witness to the wanton destruction fighting the Hellspawn, never fully recovered his faith in the core beliefs of what the Solar Expedition stood for. Not for the BA. Not for SFM.
The five years reconstructing the Hellspawn Jump Gate forced him to reflect on where he wanted to go next. While he didn’t have an exact answer, he knew for certain the path he desired led in a direction SFM and the BA just weren’t heading in.
Instead, he would lean back into his strengths, striking out on his own to fill whatever needs he was most skilled and able in; Infrastructure. Logistics. Making things run smooth. Maybe smooth enough that the nightmares would no longer hold the sway they did.
Even with the Hellspawn long behind them, he knew there would still be dangers. A problem he would figure out when he needed to. For now, he needed only one thing; Freedom