Convergence (An Enclave Story)

[Cat]

Derelict Trading Hub
Command Center

Ever since the news about a shuttle full of potential hostiles, Leila was twitchy: always checking her motion scanner and expecting a heads up from the Alsace. So far, she hasn't encountered any intruders, but she knew she'd have to. Her orders were clear: make sure that no other people, even other Enclave officers, would find out about the facility.

As much as she was certain that she'd meet the uninvited guests, Leila also knew that at least some of them would end up near the command center eventually. That's why she had taken some time to set a trap. Now she was all out of explosives and EMP devices. Even her plasma rifle had been put to good use as part of the contraption that would ensure her survival. It was a gamble, but Leila figured she'd need an element of surprise when dealing with an overwhelming number of hostiles.

With the trap set, the agent rushed towards the central terminal to see what exactly she was dealing with, and what defenses the station had. "Come on, come on, give me something," she mumbled, as the system loaded. The interface was in Bretonian, but the HUD of her Manticore combat suit provided a good enough translation almost in real time.

As the lieutenant went through directories and commands, her hopes crashed. The station had nothing: no shields, no turrets, no drones. She looked at the Triumph destroyer floating outside the station, as if mocking her now. Now the only way to destroy the ship was the intervention of the cloaked Alsace. Just in case, Leila had also reactivated the station's comm systems. She was reluctant to hail the hostile ship and try negotiations just yet. But every second spent in vain on going through the station's systems and trying to find a solution to the cruiser problem made hailing it less and less unappealing.

Stubbornly, Leila went through the available commands and systems again. Cameras! That's a start. She ran the command, hoping to get at least some idea what she was up against. "I hope not all of you have died out of boredom," Leila mumbled, activating the systems. The holoscreens of the terminal flickered to life. Some of those were just static, but others actually provided feeds. Even though the lights were turned on, the cameras were useful; they had apparently been outfitted with night mode. Leila had to give the Bretonians some credit.

"Alright, let's see what we're dealing with," she rubbed her hands (not so satisfying in a spacesuit) and put them on the controls, as a pianist who is about to perform a chef-d'oeuvre.