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HMS Excalibur - Yeji-Sola System
"Aren't we about to break a dozen or so neutrality laws?" Lieutenant Ryerson asked uncomfortably as they rode the elevator up to the newly constructed Propylon chamber.
"Think of it as a change in vocation," Masconi replied, ignoring his question, "You've been the Air boss for how many months now?"
"Ever since our sortie across the Amsus Lines." Ryerson replied his hands on the yellow rail watching the bulk of the main cannon sweep past him, "But that is a little different than being put in charge of an alien teleportation system we don't really know anything about."
"You're a pessimist," Masconi said evenly adjusting the pistol on her belt and looking up as the platform came to a rest and the safety cage slid back to let them out, "You're a good flight director, this isn't going to be any different than that. You're still directing traffic, it's just... the...means of travel..." She trailed off, staring at Edward, the eccentric young engineer bopping along to music through his headphones, wearing clothes two sizes too large for him, spinning a screw driver through his fingers like a baton while his other hand tapped commands into a computer.
Around them, the Propylons flickered and flared, the Peligian sigils upon them glowing and rotating as they changed, before the whole system faltered and went dark again.
"That doesn't look good." Ryerson muttered dryly.
"Don't be nihilistic." Masconi walked forward to the central station, looking at the hastily constructed chamber, where engineering teams still struggled to out fit properly, making changes under the Chief Engineers guidance.
"Is it going to work?" Masconi looked sceptically around her at the clutter and exposed wiring that hooked the Amsus Computer into the alien transportation devices, all rigged into Imperial monitoring devices. It had to be the strangest and most complicated hybrid system she had ever seen.
Edward pulled one of the earphones out of his ears and looked around him, smiling that trademark 'Elias' lopsided grin, "You obviously missed Elias 101 back at the Tempus Academy. Didn't you?"
Masconi blinked twice, slowly, "There is no 'Elias 101' at the Tempus Academy." They could almost hear the sound of seizing gears in her head as her rigid military upbringing tried to figure out what in the hell the short Engineer was going on about.
"Yes, Elias 101, first rule, Trust the Engineer, the Engineer is god... literally now... but the rule was kinda written prior to that... however... you know what I mean!"
"I think I can see the future," Ryerson groaned, "I see one very expensive therapy bill..."
"Faith," Edward said spinning the screwdriver again as the elevator appeared again, this time conveying Captain Shale and the rest of the strike team, a half dozen Marines, four Fida'i and a hastily grabbed civilian specialist that worked in Communications, Specialist Drake.
She was a tall woman, perfectly bleached, platinum blonde hair with dark, hungry eyes. She was squeezed into an Imperial uniform a size too small for her, red piping marking her affiliation to house VonGrippen as it pulled across her chest. Masconi idly wondered if the uniform was going to split, or Mrs. Drake would simply explode out of the tunic. The high heeled shoes made Masconi's eyebrow raise a little and wonder why the hell Shale had chosen 'her' for his team. She was carrying jackets in her arms, setting them down on the edge of the console as everyone looked towards the young Prince.
"And..." Edward said, his hand gliding over the computer keyboard, "Magic!"
Nothing happened.
The computers around the chamber flickered to cold blue screens, white error messages over them.
"Magic?" Masconi observed, "You killed it."
Edwards's shoulders sagged, "Ever have one of those days?" He swept off Darien's hat and scratched behind his ears, "Give me a minute." He darted off for one of the upper levels.
Shale guffawed a loud chuckle as he shifted his shotgun down onto a makeshift table, looking over his men, all wearing the pale green ascent jackets broken out of the Excalibur stores. Mrs. Drake pulled one on herself and tossed another across to Masconi.
Masconi turned the rubbery jacket over in her hands, looking up, "I thought we were hitting a convoy of Hogs, not climbing Mount Tharsis."
Mrs. Drake smiled and turned to show Masconi the arm of the jacket, "It's for the Propylons, modern ski jackets are all fitted with passive GPS systems," she tapped a black rubber coated strip sew into the arm of the jacket, "the relay can keep track of where we all are and transmit those co-ordinates back to Excalibur, so if you need an evac, just tap your arm twice like this..." She demonstrated.
On the console a communications alert began to flash.
"Right," Masconi said, sounding unimpressed, "What's to stop the Amsus from using this thing to find us."
"It's passive until you activate it." Mrs. Drake replied, turning her arm to the other side to show the white winged sword on the other shoulder printed there by Shale's Marine seamstresses, "We're not going to win any style competitions, but it gets the job done."
"God I wish Mayfair were here," Masconi shook her head donning the jacket and picking up her Pulse rifle. At least she wouldn't run out of pockets, she adjusted Darien's red cap on her head and looked about her, "Let's get on with this then."
Shale scooped up his shotgun, slinging it onto his shoulder as his dark eyes looked up to where the Prince was rebooting the computer system, wrestling with the latest version of the Denver operating system that was never designed to have Propylons as a plug and play peripheral.
He slid down the metal run ladder and ran across to the central console, glad that Galadriel had stepped up to give him a hand, the two smiling as they brought the Propylons online again. Ryerson slipping on his headset as he activated the ship wide com system.
"Bridge, PPC, Propylons operational," he reported, "System reads nominal, green lights across the board."
Edward looked up from the red-lit board, alive with error codes.
Ryerson covered the mouthpiece, "I am being optimistic." He answered.
"PPC, Excalibur-Actual." Darien's voice echoed out of the overhead speakers, "Good luck Dragoons."
Shale took his place on the large raised platform in the centre of the chamber, unfazed by the malfunctioning system. Masconi stood uneasily beside him, lifting her pulse rifle and ready for anything, Making sure that Mrs Drake, their Communications expert and ticket home if anything went wrong, was squarely protected. On her back, the Hyperspace relay sat, ready to go.
Edward looked uncertainly over at Lieutenant Ryerson, "It's your call." He said, his hand hovering over the actuator, "Anyone who wants to pray, I'm listening..."
"Shut up," Masconi rolled her eyes and smiled at the plucky engineer/prince/god.
"Excalibur-Actual, PPC, Dragoons away." He nodded to Edward, who slapped his hand down.
The system activated, and in a rush of hyperspace energies that caused both officers remaining behind to shield their eyes, the Dragoons vanished.
* * *
They appeared in the Cargo bay, a rush of light flaring as the energy spilled away, leaving them to take stock a moment of the realization that they were aboard a Polian warship, looking down the long wooden and crystal barrels of Kill'a'ma'jigs wielded by the Prize crew.
Lauren lowered hers first, "Captain," She greeted Shale with a tired grin and a rakish salute, "I present to you this Prize ship."
Shale smiled, returning the salute, as the Fida'i behind him slipped away at a gesture from James, fading into the shadows to have their own consultation on what was to come. Masconi set her Pulse rifle aside, and patted Lauren on the shoulder thankfully. A notable sense of relief from the prize crew that they were no longer alone.
"Well," Lauren said after a pause coughing a little as she sniffed, gesturing, "The bridge is this way," She began to lead the way through the ship, "We're cruising in neutral space, somewhere between the Cairo system and the Xa-Qi system. I felt if we're going to break the Dreknar neutrality..."
"The Amsus broke it first," Masconi pointed out as they emerged in the relatively Spartan gunship's command centre, "We brought supplies and communications gear, as well as a demolitions team. Darien feels that the Hedgehogs are a priority..."
"As well as the Rock of Braal," Lauren stated folding her arms in frustration, "what the hell is that about?"
"Peligia." Masconi answered, running her hand over the back of the gunship's control chair, "We're not sure why... But it's important."
"Right," Lauren shook her head again, "see now I wouldn't have the first hand clue how to find the Rock of Braal, Kule space... yet the Kule haven't been seen in centuries, their entire homeworld just vanished one day," she snapped her fingers, "Just like that."
"Let's worry about it after the Hog hunt," Masconi murmured, looking out of the view port over the view of deep space, "If we're going to hit these ships, we're going to have to do it while they refuel."
"Don't Hogs have ram scoops?" Lauren asked, pausing as she sneezed.
"No," Masconi replied turning her head, "Imperial Intelligence gave all Squadron Commanders a briefing on Amsus fleet vessels back when the war started, Hogs are an older style of Amsus ship, all sensing equipment and communications gear, that takes a lot of Reaction Mass, and they just aren't big enough to support a ram scoop system. So they need to refuel every five jumps or so in order to keep going." She looked about here, "Are there jump charts here?"
Lauren slipped into the uncomfortable chair and called up the floating displays, finding the jump charts and spreading them out in front of them.
Shale reached forward with his paw, the opposable thumb nudging the map, grunting a moment as he looked across at Lauren, tapping the bright flashing object on the map that seemed to be moving.
Lauren leaned in trying to read the Polian, "It's..."
"It's an Amsus re-supply vessel." Mrs. Drake answered for her, "It's moving at point five sub-light and is evading the Dreknar listening posts looking for it."
"You read Polian?" Lauren turned.
"Polian, Italian, Orion, and a little Gorean." Mrs. Drake answered confidently, "I was always good at languages."
"Thank god for that," Lauren insisted in relief, "I need you to go give Petty Officer Firlotte a hand figuring the ships systems out..."
Masconi pulled a pad of sticky notes out of her pocket and a marker; tossing them to the middle-aged specialist, "Label what you can." She suggested, "We do this down on the flight deck for rookie pilots who aren't used to acronyms." She explained to Lauren.
Mrs. Drake nodded her head and set out in search of the technician, leaving Masconi to tit back Darien's cap and look at the flashing symbol that represented the vessel the Amsus had sent, "Well we now know where there gas station is,"
"That's where we have to hit them," Masconi looked thoughtful, "They don't know we have this ship yet, right?" she grinned, "so we fly it right up to them, demand assistance, and rush the supply ship when they let us dock."
"How many troopers on a Supply ship?" Lauren asked sitting back and touching her throbbing temples tenderly, concerned that the plan seemed too easy.
"Ten usually, they can support twenty five, though mainly they're technicians not the trooper models. Maybe one Amsus Fleet officer, and we all know how useless they are in close quarter fighting." Masconi crossed her arms.
"What happens once the Dreknar show up, as they will if we go about capturing Amsus ships in their space?" Lauren was trying to cover all the possible problems she saw with the plan.
"We follow the guidelines in the inter-galactic treaty," Masconi nodded, "The Neutrality laws just say we can't keep ships we capture in their space, nothing says we can't blow them up."
"I don't like it," Lauren murmured, "Something feels wrong with this plan, like it's a set up."
Masconi's eyebrows rose as she looked up at Shale. The big Taïrian was staring down at Lauren curiously. "I think we can pull this off, unless you have some reason this won't work."
"I don't know," Lauren scratched her arm idly, "I just get the feeling that attacking those ships would be a mistake, and... I just can't shake it."
"We attack," Shale said after a moment, reaching a decision as the senior officer on the ship, he turned back to the windows, standing there, his arms folded, a flicker of unease emanating from him now as his ear twitched against his fatigue cap.
* * *
Mrs. Drake clip-clopped in her high heeled shoes as she rounded the corner and drew to a stop looking at the large organ that throbbed and pulsated in front of a bewildered technician who sat on the floor, makeshift tools arrayed about him, his chin in his hand staring up at it as if lost.
"Hello," She purred, unzipping her Dragoon jacket to make sure it hid nothing as she set a toolkit down beside him, "I'm supposed to help you."
"Yeah?" Firlotte asked, looking at the Civilian communications specialist he'd heard rumours about onboard the Excalibur, she'd systematically worked her way through an entire Marine Platoon... He, turned back to her and gesturing with what looked like a bent fork, "Can you start by telling me what that is?"
Mrs. Drake looked down at the young man, sizing him up as she chewed her lip and tilted her head so that her long, blonde hair fell to one side, "It looks like... well if you count some of the things they serve in the Excalibur's mess hall..."
"I think it's a heart." Firlotte replied, "Well a pump of some kind," he pointed to all the translucent tubes extending into the organ and out of it.
"Right," Mrs. Drake replied disinterestedly as she sat down beside him, noting how upset he seemed, she rubbed his shoulders sympathetically, "Are you going to be okay?"
Firlotte sighed in frustration, "Ever wind up in a situation where you know you're just so far out of your league that you know you're looking like a total idiot?"
She pulled the box of tools over for him and opened them, "Voila Well it is a good thing that, I come bearing gifts."
Firlotte lifted the nano-welder and looked back at the organ, and then at her, "Don't suppose you brought a first aid kit and Doctor Kyr did you, Mrs. Drake?"
"The Doctor's still on R-403, last we heard. With the Gorean Ambassador, but," she looked about her again in wonder, "If that is a heart, does that mean this ship is alive?"
"I don't know," Firlotte answered, "If Excalibur is, I suppose this ship is more so, in a biological sense, or we're not if you think that we're just machines that run on sugar instead of Reaction mass... But this is kind of like taking your son into a mechanic and asking for a tune up. I don't even know where to start with this thing."
"Well we have two days to figure out how it works," Mrs. Drake offered, "And we should start by getting real coffee into you. Where's the galley?"
"Galley?" Firlotte answered, "We've been eating Dreknar food... go nuts and berries, since we left Cairo yesterday. We haven't actually found anything like a kitchen on this ship. Nor beds, you should see the Polian bed, it's like they sleep in a toilet bowl."
"Well it's a good thing I brought coffee then," she picked up a butane torch, "we're going to improvise. Think you can build a coffee pot out of spare parts a coffee can and a mess kit?"
Firlotte grinned at her, "see, building stuff I can do."
Mrs. Drake nodded warmly, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "I think there are a few other things you can do as well know." She allowed her eyes to drift down, and then locked onto his.
* * *
"What's wrong L?" Masconi had put her jacket aside and now stood leaning on the door looking into Lauren's cabin, her eyes twitching as they glided over the large bowl shaped bed that occasionally bubbled with dark slimy water.
Lauren had acquired a small futon mattress from Cairo, and had tucked a sleeping bag over it, she was sitting with her back against the wall, her knees tucked up and under her chin glancing back at the Kardiac Wing Commander.
"I'm just tired," Lauren replied, rubbing at the under sides of her eyes, sniffling.
"Are you sick?" Masconi pressed, staring in concern a moment, the flu was a nasty bug to get, especially on a starship, it had a tendency of spreading quickly and caused disruption to ship reaction times, as well as... She shook her head to stop thinking like a Fighter Pilot and be compassionate to her friend, "We can have Excalibur send a nurse to us."
"I'll be fine," Lauren snapped, irritably, her hand touching her temple as she pressed her head back against the wall and sniffed loudly, smiling after a moment, "Honestly I'm okay."
Masconi's face registered a tick, as if she bit back snapping something herself, saluting crisply "Yes Commander!" she turned on her heel and walked rigidly out of the cabin. Shaking her head, of all the times to have to man -up, they were plotting a raid on an Amsus convoy in a ship they barely understood, and the only one with any experience flying the Polian bucket was sick.
"I swear when I get my hands on our resident living god..." she grumbled, uttering a few choice curses about fate, luck and bad timing. As she grumbled she nearly ran into Hobbes who was coming out of one of the far cabins.
"Ma'am," he nodded, "The Marine demolitions team are prepped and ready to go on your orders, I've issued them with these," he held up a Polian Kill'a'ma'jig, "just in case we run into trouble. They don't have ammunition so they make efficient side arms. Handy, especially if there's an inquisitor on the supply ship."
"If there is, we're never going to get close to it," Masconi responded, taking the Kill'a'ma'jig and trading it for her own pistol. It never hurt to be prepared. She kept moving back down to the next deck, pausing again in the doorway to another cabin where Mrs. Drake was draped over Firlotte's shoulders while he sat at a table like structure with a bubbling contraption perking away happily.
"Okay, first Shale on the Bridge, then Lauren is sick... and now you two..." Masconi looked pained, "Am I the only one on this ship doing anything here?"
"We found a U-ahct," Mrs. Drake said looking up, a flicker of irritation at being interrupted just as she was beginning her shoulder rub.
"You what?" Masconi asked, blinking again, wondering for the umpteenth time why Shale had wanted her to go on this mission, aside of course for the obvious tactical knowledge she had With the Polian language. Why he just couldn't send Galadriel, Masconi was sure it was Darien's way of punishing her for something.
"Not you what, U-acht." Mrs. Drake smiled lifting a flat black crystalline device, "Polian Laptop... sort of... except its more like a TAC-link, data reader, computer, and scanning device all in one."
"And the U-acht is useful?" Masconi asked, "Can I eat it? Can we throw it at the Amsus? Does it explode? or does it jump this ship?"
"Well... none of those," Firlotte replied, blinking.
"Then get your scrawny ass back down to the engineering sections and get on with finding something that does!" Masconi rolled her eyes, cuffing him to the back of the head, and indicating that Mrs. Drake should follow him, the crewmen sheepishly obeying as they returned to work, leaving Masconi with the bubbling coffee.
She tilted her head, set her hands on her hips and glanced towards the doors, then back at the pot, a broad smile spreading across her pursed lips as she reached out and poured herself a cup.
James standing in the doorway materializing in that way of his, the dragoon jacket pulled over his armour, looking the worse for wear as the Fida'i had proceeded to cut off all the straps and removed all the zippers from the coat, ensuring there was nothing on it that jingled, rattled or would otherwise hamper his movement.
Masconi looked up from her mug, "What are you looking at?" she snarled.
James blinked, "Excuse me," he replied, walking away, knowing it was probably best to leave the irritated Wing Commander to her coffee.
Masconi rubbed her eyes and looked down into her cup, wishing that she had something stronger to add to it, the way Darien ran his ship and crew was set to give he an apoplexy before too long.
She took her cup and went back to the cargo bay, glad to see that Ryerson was on the ball back aboard the Excalibur. Setting to work unpacking equipment and ensuring that everything they would need was on hand.