Captain Dekker held the controls of his fighter tightly, as the huge
transport passed a few feet above the hull. The Triton was loaded
with standard cargo: food supplies and spare parts, heading for the
Arcadia class installation a few clicks ahead. He was getting tired
of the same routine over and over, almost cursing the day the jump
nodes to Capella were collapsed. Those were the days... he
thought to himself, remembering the time when destroying Shivans was
his job.
He never had a family to worry about, so the war was good for him. He
felt like he was important, somehow. Back then, my job served a
purpose. I served a purpose. Escorting transports from the
jump node to Anchorage was more than he could handle. It was
overwhelmingly boring.
"Delta One, we're in range for docking procedure", the greenish
display lighting up on his HUD, the face of the pilot he so many
times had escorted this same way appearing. "Allright, i'm
breaking formation, good to go" he said. God, it's always
the same thing. Why the hell am I here?, Dekker thought. Indeed,
the routine was always the same. The recharge time for the
transport's jump drives was just too long, and it was faster if the
transport just flied through normal space from the node to the
Arcadia.
Dekker watched as the dented hull of the Mammoth IV moved away, plates over
plates of metal composing a silver and blue mosaic that was all too
familiar. He always kept his sight locked at the same window, hoping
to see someone pass by it someday, but it never happened. I've
been escorting this same vessel for years, and I've never seen anyone
from the crew, except for the pilot. "Initiating docking
procedure", the same face with the same voice as always
whispered at the comms, as if it wasn't that important after all.
He backed off from the transport a little further, as the gigantic piece
of metal turned starboard, starting to get aligned to the Anchorage's
cargo dock 2. At this time he wold usually start his own docking
procedure, but he was even more bored than the usual. "Anchorage
control, i'm going for a little ride...", he said while
banking the Herc MkII hard to the right, facing away from everything
- the installation, the transport, the node and the planet. He could
see only the soft outlines of a distant nebula, wich blackened the
star filled skies in a strange way.
Full power to engines, afterburning as much as the assault fighter
sustained, he headed for the unreachable cloud of particles on his
reticle. By this time, people at Vega might be able to see the
light from Capella's supernova, a thought of unexpected grief ran
through his mind. He wasn't there when it happened, and he's glad
about it.
His fighter's sensors were adjusted to full range, but Anchorage vanished
from it anyway. He had travelled a lot into deep space. Boy, I
lost completely the sense of time - I've been flying towards nowhere
for over two hours, Dekker suddenly realized. He was starting to
turn his fighter back when the purple dot flashed on his sensors
display. "What the hell is that? Anchorage, I got and
unidentified contact on sensors, please confirm the data on this
ship". No response. He was too far for the onboard comm
system reach the installation. He switched power to communications,
but still didn't get a response. Oh, what the hell. I'm checking
this out, Dekker thought as he corrected the course to face the
unknown ship.
After a few minutes, the black and red hulk was within visual range. Oh
my god! That's a Moloch corvette! He checked the sensors again,
but it remained with unknown status, and no other contacts were
present. "Well, let's go for it!" Frederick said
while hitting the afterburners, and diverting power from comms to
shields. Strange, it's not firing... He got closer to the
Shivan ship, passing just a few meters away from the spikes at the
corvette's front side, but it just didn't react. Targetting a beam
turret, he realized that his data on the Moloch class didn't match
that vessel. Where's this damn beam turret?
In fact, he couldn't find any weapon turret at all on the surface of the
ship. Even unarmed, this is a freaking huge threat! How the hell
this ship got here? his brain proccessed the information while
making a last pass before getting back to comms range with the
installation. "Anchorage, this is captain Frederick Dekker,
requesting immediate reply. Shivan vessels encountered, please
respond!". Silence. He turned towards Anchorage, light from
Betelgeuse flooding his eyes. Suddenly, the light got stronger, and
the whiteness surrounded his cockpit completely - a few moments
later, the space where the Hercules and the Moloch were was empty
once again.
"Hawkeye,
proceed to the specified coordinates at once, that pilot has been
missing for almost six hours!", the communications officer
for GTI Anchorage shouted, the AWACS pilot rushing for the navpoint
as the crew searched for the smallest hint of Dekker's ship on the
vastness of space. Dammit Fred, what the hell are you doing out
there - he thought as the mighty Arcadia class installation got
smaller and smaller...
continues on the Machina Terra campaign...
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