Remnants of a Daydream

[axisdeus]

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EPISODE ONE

Scene 1 - „Don't ask for whom the bell tolls...”

Keep your heart open to dreams. For as long as
there's a dream, there is hope, and as long as
there is hope, there is still a way.

Metal is buckling under the sheer force of the ionized pulse blasts. Every single one thumps the hull more and more. Crewmen fidgeting about, while trying to get everything in check. „Shields barely holding!” „Steady as she goes!” Worried faces and nervous chatter. „Your orders, Captain!” A shrieking sound as loud as the world and ear drums start bleeding. A shattering blow, and for a moment everything and everyone seems still mid-air, feet clear off the deck. A moment of clarity in a sea of chaos. A large explosion in the compartment and consoles go up in flames. Rancid smell of charred human flesh hints the dense smoke flooding the compartment, bodies laying around, blood and sparking cables...a flash of light... Confusion, convulsions, screams. „Captain?! Your orders!” The silhouette of a body laying face down near the center seat is barely visible. „Captain!” „Captain!”

„Captain!” Talfryn startles as his aid touched him on his shoulder. He raised himself from the desk and looked a bit disoriented at the crewman standing there with a datapad in his hand. „The last patrol report came in, Sir! You told me to bring it asap.” „Anything new?” asked Talfryn while reaching for the item. „Nothing new unfortunately.” Talfryn pulled himself out of the chair and moved to the window. The sight was not pretty, but at least was safe. All that metallic debris was sure to mess-up any detection attempt by any who happen to be around. And who knows, maybe in this literal pile of junk, a few hull panels could still be recoverable. „That'll be all!” The aid left the room as quietly as humanly possible, while Talfryn was still gazing out the window.

Two an a half years since Ma'at was sent undercover under strict communication policy, with orders not to contact anyone until the mission was done, and look what good that did for them. Now, even if he'd wanted to, he could not send a message two systems away. CONNECT was down and no hopes to repair it in the foreseeable future. For what is worth, Orack could have already called the mission a fail and Ma'at MIA with all hands, seeing that the ship was overdue a status update at the end of the two-years period. „Just our luck...” said Talfryn and moved away from the window. He eyed a glass and a bottle of Bretonian scotch laying around on the small coffee table on the opposite side of the room. He poured himself just a bit and sipped the amber liquid. On the table, among other papers, a file with the picture of a tall man in Order dress uniform, wearing O'Rhu insignia, stamped [DECEASED]. Two and a half years since departing Omicron Mu and a little over one year since he had been acting CO of the vessel. A vessel almost dead in space, with no communications and just a two-figher wing escort.

Talfryn took his glass and, unknowingly, ended up again near the window, so close he could feel the coldness of the reinforced glass pane. All their livelihood stood in that handful of pilots he worked around the clock in hopes of finding someone crazy enough to accept to help them out, while having the means to do so. From his position, the glass shifted the color of the outside space, from the dark red tones so specific to Bretonia, to a purple-blue, reminding him of other systems now out of reach for him and his crew. Under this new light, the room's reflection looked ethereal. Talfryn focused almost instinctively on a news article he had in hard-copy on his desk - War over Curacao.

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