The session begins with a cutscene.
Mitch-
You’re a little stunned, your ears are still ringing from the numerous explosions and roar of automatic weapons in close quarters. You’re still holding your sidearm at your side, Becker’s across the room at the lavatory door, Summerville’s bruised and bloodied head in her lap. She’s stroking his hair idly, probably not even aware of what she’s doing, while collecting reports from across the ship.
“Faro, Strike Team, Report.”
Corbett is working furiously on Jack next to you, who is riddled with bullets and still bleeding from several places.
“Corporal Feeney, Strike Team, report.”
“Mitch. Doc, I have no idea if the ship’s secure yet, but I have four VIPs for your trauma suite and they are very, very impatient. Mitch.”
“Huh?”
“Sergeant Chambers, report.”
“Goddammit Jack, stop fucking dying!” Corbet jams a button on a device he’s attached to Jack’s wrist and his whole body jolts slightly. “Vagabond!”
You finally snap out of it. “Stimson?”
“Ives has a trauma pack, just like this one,” he holds up Jack’s limp arm, “I need you to go check it, lift this cover, look at the second number, the one in green, if it’s below 100, hit the blue button. Got it?”
“Ives, green number under a hundred, blue button, got it.” You roll around the corner into the hall. Ten yards down there are still tiny smoking impact craters pitting the walls, and there’s blood…everywhere. Splatters of bone and gore on the wall behind the CIC hatch, streaks of blood across the floor from where the bodies were dragged. Stella and Geers, bleeding and broken on the floor, Private…Private…you can’t even recall his name….on the deck, the back half of his head missing.
Over the team radio channel you hear Gerst’s half-grumble/half-whisper, “Top, Willis has gone dark.”
You get to Stella and check the trauma pack on her wrist. The green number says 73, so you press the blue button and the number starts slowly climbing.
You watch as Gerst and Bramer move further down the hall – Bramer dragging one wounded leg behind him – and close in on the door to the enlisted lounge.
Time seems to slow to a crawl.
Corporal Willis…or rather…the body of Corporal Willis is flung out the door. Even at this distance you see every detail. His throat is slit so deeply his head is nearly severed…and every pin of every grenade on his vest is missing.
Bramer sees it too.
With a roar, he shoves past Gerst and vaults off his one good leg, tackling the corpse in the air. You see Blake drop over the top of Janks, and some long-forgotten instinct baked into your psyche by SLDF drill instructors surfaces and you throw yourself across Stella and Geers. Willis…and Bramer…explode with a series of literally deafening bangs.
With a shudder and a groan, you start to pull yourself upright, the only sound you can hear a high-pitched buzz. The end of the hall is a scene straight out of hell, covered in gore, you can’t even tell if Gerst was blown apart in the explosion or is simply buried under the mass. Out from the rec room strides one of the largest men you’ve ever seen, wearing a full suit of combat armor he must of raided from a locker on the ship, and carrying an M-41 in each massive hand.
Mitch snatches up Bertha from Stella’s side and fires a single shot, felling the massive Victor. Corbett rushes forward and finds Gerst alive, but in shock. Becker calls up the marines who had been guarding the primary reactor to escort Cottle and Millet from the sleeper bay. While they’re waiting, Faro calls in and informs the party that the intruder’s ship had vented into space, and she counted three bodies. Shortly thereafter, Chief Kim calls in and takes credit for the sabotage.
Cottle arrives and all of the wounded are transported to the medical center.
Over the course of the next five weeks, the following occurs:
- Becker orders the remainder of the crew roused, a process that takes the majority of the month. Nearly six hundred of the thousand sleepers do not survive.
- Faro takes the Coyote and a contingent of marines to the abandoned jump station to disable or destroy the emergency HyperPulse Generator located there. After the three week journey, they follow their orders and destroy the station when they find a ship docked there.
- The Agamemnon’s sensors, communication systems, and weapons are brought online. The ship’s transit drives require substantial additional effort to repair before they can be fired.
- The Thermopylae is made ready to fly.
- Using the Rusty Bitch over the source of several weeks, the Agamemnon’s stores of water and air are replenished.
- One member of the crew commits suicide during the height of the resuscitation failures.
- Jonah and Flannery McTavish are brought to the ship and given a tour. Becker negotiates with Jonah – who seemed to have been testing the virtues of the sleepers – for all of their surplus foodstuffs in exchange for the Dervish and Rusty Bitch and a promise to not attempt to recruit Bob, who is the settlement’s only trained pilot. The supplies provided should hold over the Agamemnon crew for nearly a year.
Colonel Becker’s log, 1st of June, 3020
All things considered, I suppose I should be grateful it wasn’t worse. We lost several men. Too many, considering our situation. Though I know there is worse to come. Still, it is not easy. The worst part is, had I not forgotten the ‘anomality’ Summerville mentioned, this might never have happened. And had it not been for Bramer, we would have lost a lot more. Medals and awards given post-humously are mostly for family and friends. With us, who remember nothing of the past, I don’t know if it will mean anything. On the other hand, perhaps it will give people a sense of normality, or something to look to next time we get into trouble. For as soon as the galaxy learns that we are back, that Agamemnon has returned, we will be hunted. She’ll become the most covedted ship in the known universe. I guess, then, that we will have a ceremony when things calm down.
As for Cooter, I’m half expecting an attack. On the other hand, we have now taken out three of his ships. That should give him pause. Or make him more angry. Hard to tell, but it means we need to take out that platform as soon as possible. And while I am not too happy about sending the Coyote, I do not have much choice now. If they get a signal out, we have a serious problem. Until the Agamemnon is operational, I would prefer her presence here to be completely unknown to the rest of the galaxy. So if they are trying to send a message to Black, I need to send someone capable of stopping them.
And when the relay is down, when they can no longer send a message out, then it is time to send a message to Cooter. If we can prevent them from sending out a message, we have what we need. Time. The Coyote, under the command of lieutenant Ferro, is already on its way.
Right now, I have things to do. Have major Cottle start waking the rest of the crew. I need to get the Thermopylae operational as soon as possible. And engineers; I need to get Agamemnon’s weapons online as well. Once we have defenses, I doubt any ship can take us out. Even without working engines. With time, we can repair the engines as well. And then, then we’ll see.
Colonel Becker’s log, 9th of June, 3020
This is not going well. We are losing too many. Worse, this is just going to be the beginning. People will not be able to handle the stress of waking up without knowing anything. Even if they _do_ remember, waking up, knowing the world we knew is gone, people will break.
The docs we have are busy. And I don’t think they’ll be able to handle this on top of everything else. I suppose I can sleep when this is all over; there is a steady stream of people needing to talk coming in. This, at least, I can do, since I cannot do anything for the Coyote and her crew; they are on their own. I am of little use with engines or weapons, or any of the other things that need to be done. But at least I can listen. And talk.
Colonel Becker’s log, 19th of June, 3020
I just hope we were in time. Lieutenant Ferro reported in. There was a ship docked at the old station. They were most likely trying to send a message to Black. I can only hope they did not have the time to send it. The station is destroyed now, as was the ship. Which means Cooter has only two ships left. Things are looking up.
Colonel Becker’s log, 10th of June, 3020
At least we’re no longer undefended. The Thermopylae is on patrol now, and we are getting sensors and weapons operational. While we’re still sitting dead in space, we aren’t defenseless. Now we need to start training people in using the weapons systems.
Colonel Becker’s log, 23rd of June, 3020
At least those who survive seem to do fairly well, all things considered. So far, only one suicide. It will not be the last, but it is better than I had dared hope. Major Cottle is taking it hard; he worked miracles, it is incredible that anyone survived at all. I’ve tried to tell him that he should rather look at the ones who live. Every single life is a life he saved. I haven’t gotten through to him yet.
There has been a steady stream of people in need of a talk, though major Summerville and chief Fagan, along with major Cottle are most likely the ones I have seen the most. They didn’t get a choice. Justin is doing pretty well, I think. If major Cottle can just realise that without him, _none_ of us would have been here; we would all have starved, or died in riots as the discipline would have broken down, or something.
Chief Fagan, now, that’s harder. But it seems captain Millet has a good influence on her, in more than one way, so I’ll just make certain she keeps an extra eye on her these days. Major Cottle is not willing to talk about it, so I will just have to trust him in this. Oh, and a private ceremony for her. Captain Millet should probably be the only other person present.
Colonel Becker’s log, 28th of June, 3020
We have lost far too many. I would have written decimated, except that’s not right; we lost far more than one in ten. But almost six hundred dead. Of a crew of around thousand. The day needs more hours. So many names. I have to call up their files and look at their pictures, I don’t remember their names. These men and women, I don’t remember them, I don’t know them. Most of them never woke up. Many of them were centuries dead. Others died during the waking process. A few died at the med-bay.
At least I can go back to sleeping in my quarters. I’ve spent so much time there, I wanted to be there when people woke up. Until we get tings settled, people will need something set, something constant. Which, I suppose, is my job. People will form new bonds, friendships, but until then, people will feel lost, confused, and desperate. The only thing I can do, is to give them a constant. They need to think I know what I’m doing, that I’m not as lost as they are.
But with my time divided between the waking ones, the ones who need to talk, and my little project, there is little time for anything else. Like sleep. Oh, well. I can sleep when I’m dead. That sounded a bit too depressing. I can sleep when this is all over. There. Much better.
At least we’re restocked on air and water. I’ve sent the Coyote to invite McTavish and his daughter back to the Agamemnon. If they wish to accept, I’ll give them the tour, and see if I can negotiate for food now. I’m also tempted to ask Bob if he wishes to join the crew; he actually can fly, though I have no idea where he learned it.
Colonel Becker’s log, 2nd of July, 3020
Food, water, air. Weapons and sensors online. The funerals are over. Now, well, now we carry on with our lives. We need to repair the engines. We need some strontium 7, we need to get to the vault, if nothing else then because it will contain information and technology this world is no longer ready for. And, of course, there might still be things _we_ will need there.
Colonel Becker’s log, 7th of July, 3020
The Coyote is back. Now it is time to deal with Cooter, once and for all.