The atmosphere before departure was a mix of chilly professionalism and flaring tempers as the head engineer was still smouldering hours after his public outburst, his vicious complaints echocing down the corridors. Chief among the complaints were the numerous defacing of “his” ship; indeed, they consisted of scribblings on the hull and critical systems such as the engine and navigation, all using an bizarre dialect of the proto-walarisk language; furthermore, the scribblings had been identified as prayers of safe passage and placations to the void by the xeno-linguist who had a passing knowledge of the ancient languages. Having been brought to the attention of the senior officers, the captain upholding an archetypical Walarisk air of stoicism made little fuss beyond a short remark, the prayers had been written with haste and in desperation and the Captain ordered them to remain untouched, knowing they would calm not only the minds of her crew but her own despite advice from the new political officer, Kommissarie-Löjtnant Vladrmira von Hellborgh.
The tension was palatable as the minutes until launch ticked by with the usual nervous optimism, thoughts of leaving home, to explore and make new discoveries and the prospect of something going horribly wrong and to never return. Distil the emotions and onboard it would’ve been pure dread. The realisation of the vastness and inherent unknowability of the stygian abyss in front of them set in. The crew knew in their heart of hearts that something transcendental waited for them on the other side, taunting them to take the leap as every primal instinct pulled at them like a leash the other way, pleading for them to step away from the hafgufian jaws hidden just beneath the surface of primeval waters.
We were to be sedated and loaded like cargo on the Gansi, with the mission to discover what fate had befallen the grand expeditionary fleet sent by the Empire a decade ago to establish an outpost in Aegis, a solar system thought to contain a number of habitable planets. A truly pan-imperial project intended to solidify the empire with a national spirit focused on space-travel, a number of allies and foreign actors were even allowed to participate in the spirit of international cooperation, hoping they would bring with them a different set of expertise and mindset.
Sleep came in the form of a slow, seemingly decade-long fade into the dark, consciousness leaving with the most dogged of reluctance.
The awakening came flooding back in with a vengeance, overwhelming the senses when every fibre of her being screamed out for attention in a hellish choir. The sense of touch was the first to return as she found herself face down, cheek pressed against a cold metal grate, body oily and slick from the warm and viscous stasis fluid still pouring out of the capsule and onto exposed leg; then homeostasis offered a gentle reminder to breathe; the intensely frigid air tearing at her throat, shocking the newly revived lungs as a struggle to avoid choking between the coughing and ragged gasps ensued. The olfactory sensation was next, the smell of a winter’s day mixed with a sour and acidic odour, explained when through blurred vision she was graced with the sight of normally dignified imperial sailors hunched over heaving, some on the floor next to their pods like her, others leaning against lockers, pre-take-off snacks, medication and the rare contraband all mixed with digestive fluid, stopping only short of vomiting up the guts themselves and not for a lack of trying. She felt her stomach tying itself in knots and joined them in the undignified display, retching.
A thin paper tag slotted into a locker door drew her attention, realising she had seen it in what felt like mere hours ago, white and fresh, now brown and faded, marked “V. Hellborgh”.
Ripping the vacuum-sealed bags open was difficult despite the desperation, the tremors in her arms proving to be enough of an obstacle even without the fear of her quivering legs threatening to fold beneath her. The cold was already causing her old bullet wounds to ache, even the fetsur scar across her nose stinged.
“Sailor, I was told you had some troubling news concerning the Deep-Space Positioning System.” Vladrmira Hellborgh joined the crew at the helm and addressed a grizzled voidsman appearing to attempt finding a solution, but not knowing what the problem really was. “No Ser, the DPS appears to be working as intended and I can confirm we’ve made it to Aegis.” the sailor paused for a moment. “There’s a problem with the Deep Space Atomic Clock, DSAC, Ser. It’s off by nearly two decades.” he continued. “Are you telling me the overly engineered clock is broken?” the Commissar-Lieuteant said, feeling a headache on it's way. “No, Lieutenant that’s the problem, it isn’t.” the grim tone sent a wave through the crowd gathered, the woman was already pushing herself after the resuscitation and had to brace herself against a console while making sense of the news. “There’s more Commissar, have a walk with me.” Another man interrupted, quite the veteran judging by the tattoos she could see as he grabbed her under one arm to support her weight and left the helm, having seen her condition a hundred times before. A star on the back of his hand drew her attention, the tattoo and the man it was attached to gave her a small amount of comfort. She went over the thick study material of naval tattoos commissioned by Drak Stahlfalk in her mind, the man had died a few years before the departure and left a gap within the diplomatic corps they were struggling to fill up until the launch. She heard he died down south napping on the lap of a baker famous for her cheesecake. She pushed the thought form her mind, rightfully deciding to focus on the situation they were in when another thought hit her, “Where’s the captain? I didn’t see her at the helm.” “That’s why we’re taking a walk, thought the senior officers should discuss how to best break the news to the crew.” She had seen the worst acts war could do to a body, even committed them herself, but she struggled to look at the mummified corpse of the captain without constantly averting her eyes. There was a small gathering in the stasis chamber, mostly officers but a few other personal who had the misfortune of waking up to not only the sickness and cold, but the state of the ship’s captains.
by Valyrien » Tue Jun 30, 2020 3:15 pm 