Wolf626
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“So we’re really doing it?” the impish voice belonging to the pale impish man asked him.
“Yes. It will be the shakedown run of the class, the drive system and the crew.” Thyago answered, before taking another sip of his soda. Both men stood on the balcony railing, watching the shipyard’s latest crop, illuminated by spotlight against the ever present night. A corvette vessel that would bring them to the stars.
“Trying not to lose ourselves lightyears away with a barely blooded crew. Sounds simple.“ Pyrrhus Naismith said. The man was a few inches short of five feet, the BAMF naval uniform clinging to his frame like a child’s costume. He was Thyago’s XO. And one of his last few living friends. His stature was the result of a chemical warfare attack while he had still been in the uterus. It took all the near premarital genetic skill of the Qadeshi to save his life.
“There’s also the chance of the FTL drive malfunctioning and sending us hundreds of years into the future through relativity.” Thyago said, before adding, “And that said failure could lead to the navy’s plans of expansion getting scuttled.”
Pyrrhus took his eyes off the ship and glared at Thyago. “Thy, if that is supposed to comfort me you’re doing a shit job.”
The Lusiad laughed. “Sorry. Despite it all, I'm excited. We’ll be making history! If we succeed Babel will be able to reach the stars.”
“And get out of this dark and wet rock they call a planet?” Pyrrhus asked, lifting his beer can in salute.
“That too.” Thyago returned the toast. They spent the night drinking, joking and reminiscing about the old times. And bygone friends. But how would that make them unique? None in Babel had not lost a friend, kin or lover in that terrible war, that hellish nightmare that followed them like a curse.
Would it still follow them, even as they journeyed away, faster than light itself?
—
Thyago regarded the soldier before him. Clad in the naval green captain’s uniform, the clean shaven tanned face staring at him. All familiar. Except for the eyes. Gone were the hazel eyes, who despite their flaws and poor sight had been his. Now instead gunmetal steel gray stood in its place. The biomechanical craftsman of Qadesh had no time for any cosmetic alterations and after they’d landed on this new planet, Thyago had grown accustomed to it.
They all bore scars now. It would be a disservice to try and ignore them.
“Enough reminiscing. Time to work.” he said, replacing his glasses, slim titanium framed clear lenses. He’d grown far too used to them.
Donning his cap, the transformation was complete. Gone was the man. Now the station remained. The standard to uphold. He ignored the weight of the executioner’s weapon in his waist. It was heavy, crude and practical. As well it should be.
Walking out of his room, a quiet snort at the ostentation of the captain’s quarters, Captain Thyago Dinis Magellan strode into the bridge of Black Garden.
Lit monitors lined the walls of the bridge, the brain of the ship. The stations were manned by the new crew, hard at work under Commander Naismith. The hustle and bustle did not last as the XO called out.
“Captain on Deck!” Boots echoed across the bridge as all stood at attention. Thyago looked at each and every one of his new charges. Old weary eyes in young faces. Such was the cost of war.
“At ease,” he eventually called out, taking his seat on the captain’s chair. Damn if the thing wasn’t comfortable. “All stations, sound off.”
“Helm, standing by.”
“Weapons, standing by.”
“Comms, standing by.”
“Engineering, standing by.”
“All stations reporting able, sir,” Pyrrhus called out with a small smile. “All gear is stowed and the marines have been given crayons to settle down.”
“Now I know I did not hear that!” A loud and boisterous voice sounded off the bridge. A tall dark skinned marine, whose scars did nothing to detract from his roguish smile. He pointed at Naismith with an uncut cigar. “Because if I did, my beloved Babel Marine Corps would have no choice but to lock up this fine specimen of a lean killing machine for breaking some puny ass navy boy’s bones when I sneeze!”
A tense second passed as the two men stared each other down. But bit by bit a smile grew on each of the man’s faces as they failed to contain their laughter. Thyago sighed, cupping his face to hide a smile on his face.
“What are you doing here Sergeant Pallino? Security Officer’s should be in the Security section of the ship.” Thyago inquired, looking at the Sergeant Major with a wry grin.
“Oh but you never call, you never write. A man can get worried. Besides, I figured I should come onto the bridge and hold your navy boy hands for the scary part,” Avery Pallino barked with a laugh. A veteran to the core, Avery was probably one of the finest marines of the whole Armed Forces. Though some OSTs might wish to argue that. He had been a steadfast companion of Thyago’s since the early days of the Heaven’s War.
“Very well, you may remain. For moral support, of course.”
“Aye aye, boss,” Avery threw a quick salute.
“By the way, have our… guests arrived?”
“They should be reporting now.”
Minutes passed before they appeared. Silverskins, metalheads and other such names. Tsulrati was another, but they were more commonly known as Senti. Aliens from beyond the stars that like the old pieces of fiction resembled humanity though colored and weighed like forged metal. They come to the Old World just before it fell. Most had left Babel to its fate. Most, but not all.
Barely a hundred or so remained. Many had died in a world not of their own. Rusting alongside their comrades' bones.
“Thank you for joining us.” Thyago said, rising from his seat to greet them. He did not salute them, giving them a handshake instead.
“No, thank you Skipper.” The male, copper haired Roagal said. “It is good to finally be aboard a proper ship.”
“Glad to provide,” Thyago chuckled, glad to have them here. They were there for the worst case scenario. If the FTL were to malfunction after a jump, they would be lightyears away from home. At their fastest, the engine would take years, decades to bring them home. But Senti are long-lived and suited for life in the Dark. They would steer the Black Garden and bring it home while its human crew slept in iceboxes. Under rotating marine guard, of course.
“Captain, we’ve been given the all clear,” Pyrrhus piped up from his seat, dispelling Thyago’s thoughts.
“Understood,” he said, retaking his place on the captain’s seat. “All hands! To stations! Time to say goodbye to this dark and dreary planet!”
“Aye, aye!” came the call from all hands. The captain watched as the bridge truly came alive then and there. From here orders rang out to all corners of the ship, all hands working in unison to rouse this beast of titanium with a nuclear heart.
“We’re ready for castoff Captain.” the helm called out, no hint of nervousness in their voice. Thyago smiled.
“All stations, brace for casting off!”
And thus, the rumbling began. Great booming roars that put thunder to shame and shook the ship, almost threatening to bring it apart. It rose unto the darkness of night and for a brief moment all of Chaldea had a small sun of their own.
Soon, a red dot began to shine brighter in the windows, piercing the darkness. Henna. The red far off sun of the system. And soon after bright dots joined it in the view screen as the Black Garden left atmosphere.
It took ten minutes to leave the gravity well of Ereshkigal behind, passing by the Black Rain patrols that hailed them and wished them luck.
Now came the moment. The plunge into the unknown. Time to be a captain.
“XO, bring up ship wide comms,” he commanded, rising from his chair.
“Aye aye sir. Comms are yours,” came the reply.
Thyago took a deep breath, his exhale coming softly.
“Crew of the Black Garden, this is your captain speaking,” He began, voice steady. “I shall be blunt. We are about to embark on a journey unlike any our people have before. This is in essence a test. Not just of the Yang-Durata warp drive but of us, the BAMF Navy.”
“Can we survive out there in the Dark? Where no one can hear us scream, nearly centuries away from any inhabitable planet? Will our engines hold, stay true for our journey? Can you rely and be relied upon by your crewmembers? All eyes are on us. To fail or succeed.” Thyago laid the dangers and the stakes. Just a little push now, before the pull.
“Perhaps, they are right. Perhaps, we should not tempt Fate, by plunging headlong into the void of space. That we must be cautious now most of all, that we best wait and hope for our brothers and sisters of the other arks.” The captain continued, a small smirk on his face as he laid down the dare, the challenge. “But I think they’re wrong. And I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one on this ship.’
“Hic sunt Dracones,” he uttered that old classical phrase. “Here be Dragons. Those words have been etched on the corner of our earliest maps. Those words have meant the edge of that which was known. Those words have been a warning. To all explorers to take heed that they not be cast asunder by the great unknown. But I say to hell with that!” He roared, his voice a near physical presence across the ship.
“We are Babel! Through steel and sacrifice and ingenuity we now have steel dragons of our own! Today we fly out and face those dragons! We will set out into the void! We will find our countrymen and bring them back. We will set out to new worlds and say HERE BE BABEL! For the sacrifice of those before us! For the betterment of those after us! Love and War!”
The cry was echoed out by every crewmember, their voices crying out as one, carrying all the way from the engine room to the bridge. With a gesture to Pyrrhus, Thyago settled back into his chair. He sighed, closing his eyes as his XO brought the bridge to order.
“Are you always this dramatic, Captain?” Roagal asked, voice tinged with amusement.
“Ask anyone who knows me.” replied Thyago, opening his eyes.
“If anything, he was restrained today,” Pyrrhus piped up, the traitor.
“Hell, only one classical reference? Barely a Magellan speech honestly.” Sgt. Pallino added, a far too innocent smile on his face.
Before he could retort, Ensign Zhao, the helmswoman called out, “Captain, the coordinates have been set. Awaiting your command.”
This was it. No turning back now.
“Very well. Helm, engage the Yang-Durata drive.” Born of research with Senti knowledge, the warp drive functioned much like an old theory of how FTL might be achieved. Using negative mass to contract spacetime in front of the ship and expand spacetime behind it forming a bubble. This allowed the ship to accelerate beyond the speed of light as it rode inside this warp bubble.
“Aye, aye. Warping in 10… 9… 8…” said the ensign.
They had managed it before with small unmanned probes, months ago. It was to their coordinates they now flew to. Seven jumps. Seven jumps of increasing duration and then the final test. A non stop full burn back to Ereshkigal.
“4… 3…”
The view into the starry void in front of the bridge began to shimmer, like a heat mirage over scalding tarmac. The waves quickened, almost as if the ship itself was shaking, coalescing with violet light into a single point.
“2… 1… Warp!”
It burst like a supernova as the screen was filled with strange fey indigo light, stars blurring into streaks of light. It was strangely underwhelming as there was no turbulence or sound. Just the swirling of space time around the ship.
Seconds passed by. Then minutes. Then just as the first hour passed, the crew finally allowed themselves to relax. Much like bows, one couldn’t be pulled taut forever.
“It’s strangely soothing isn’t it?” Thyago asked his XO, electronic eyes mesmerized by the warp manifolds in front of them.
“Aye.” Pyrrhus said.
Another hour passed, before the Helm piped up, “Coming up on the departure point Captain.”
“Very well. Zhao, try not to crash the ship, will ya?” Thyago said, receiving nervous laughter in return.
Much like the steady building of the bubble of spacetime, taking it down was best done gradually and slowly easing the warp bubble down. They could not simply turn it off without the ship being damaged from stress, though Thyago and Pyrrhus had played with the idea in tactical simulations.
It was so quiet that Thyago could hear Avery chewing his cigar, Pyrrhus popping the bones of his hand. All eyes on the Yue helsmwoman as she plied her craft. Slowly and surely, the indigo waves slowled and steady, like sea waves losing their wind. The streaks turned to points in the dark tapestry of space. There was a small lurch of motion as the last remnants of constricted spacetime pushed the ship forwards as if by inertia.
The bridge was silent.
“Sensors.” The captain commanded, the single word carrying the crew’s entire hope.
The ensign at the sensor station, MacKennedy Thyago believed his name was, typed away at his keyboard, each keystroke resounding like a heartbeat.
A gasp. Followed by the young man’s turning towards Thyago. A face that broke into a grin.
“Captain, I have a positive ID on the first probe. We have successfully traveled over 3 billion miles.”
No one can hear you scream in space. Not even the jubilant shouts of joy of a lone ship who had brought the stars closer than ever.
“Yes. It will be the shakedown run of the class, the drive system and the crew.” Thyago answered, before taking another sip of his soda. Both men stood on the balcony railing, watching the shipyard’s latest crop, illuminated by spotlight against the ever present night. A corvette vessel that would bring them to the stars.
“Trying not to lose ourselves lightyears away with a barely blooded crew. Sounds simple.“ Pyrrhus Naismith said. The man was a few inches short of five feet, the BAMF naval uniform clinging to his frame like a child’s costume. He was Thyago’s XO. And one of his last few living friends. His stature was the result of a chemical warfare attack while he had still been in the uterus. It took all the near premarital genetic skill of the Qadeshi to save his life.
“There’s also the chance of the FTL drive malfunctioning and sending us hundreds of years into the future through relativity.” Thyago said, before adding, “And that said failure could lead to the navy’s plans of expansion getting scuttled.”
Pyrrhus took his eyes off the ship and glared at Thyago. “Thy, if that is supposed to comfort me you’re doing a shit job.”
The Lusiad laughed. “Sorry. Despite it all, I'm excited. We’ll be making history! If we succeed Babel will be able to reach the stars.”
“And get out of this dark and wet rock they call a planet?” Pyrrhus asked, lifting his beer can in salute.
“That too.” Thyago returned the toast. They spent the night drinking, joking and reminiscing about the old times. And bygone friends. But how would that make them unique? None in Babel had not lost a friend, kin or lover in that terrible war, that hellish nightmare that followed them like a curse.
Would it still follow them, even as they journeyed away, faster than light itself?
—
Thyago regarded the soldier before him. Clad in the naval green captain’s uniform, the clean shaven tanned face staring at him. All familiar. Except for the eyes. Gone were the hazel eyes, who despite their flaws and poor sight had been his. Now instead gunmetal steel gray stood in its place. The biomechanical craftsman of Qadesh had no time for any cosmetic alterations and after they’d landed on this new planet, Thyago had grown accustomed to it.
They all bore scars now. It would be a disservice to try and ignore them.
“Enough reminiscing. Time to work.” he said, replacing his glasses, slim titanium framed clear lenses. He’d grown far too used to them.
Donning his cap, the transformation was complete. Gone was the man. Now the station remained. The standard to uphold. He ignored the weight of the executioner’s weapon in his waist. It was heavy, crude and practical. As well it should be.
Walking out of his room, a quiet snort at the ostentation of the captain’s quarters, Captain Thyago Dinis Magellan strode into the bridge of Black Garden.
Lit monitors lined the walls of the bridge, the brain of the ship. The stations were manned by the new crew, hard at work under Commander Naismith. The hustle and bustle did not last as the XO called out.
“Captain on Deck!” Boots echoed across the bridge as all stood at attention. Thyago looked at each and every one of his new charges. Old weary eyes in young faces. Such was the cost of war.
“At ease,” he eventually called out, taking his seat on the captain’s chair. Damn if the thing wasn’t comfortable. “All stations, sound off.”
“Helm, standing by.”
“Weapons, standing by.”
“Comms, standing by.”
“Engineering, standing by.”
“All stations reporting able, sir,” Pyrrhus called out with a small smile. “All gear is stowed and the marines have been given crayons to settle down.”
“Now I know I did not hear that!” A loud and boisterous voice sounded off the bridge. A tall dark skinned marine, whose scars did nothing to detract from his roguish smile. He pointed at Naismith with an uncut cigar. “Because if I did, my beloved Babel Marine Corps would have no choice but to lock up this fine specimen of a lean killing machine for breaking some puny ass navy boy’s bones when I sneeze!”
A tense second passed as the two men stared each other down. But bit by bit a smile grew on each of the man’s faces as they failed to contain their laughter. Thyago sighed, cupping his face to hide a smile on his face.
“What are you doing here Sergeant Pallino? Security Officer’s should be in the Security section of the ship.” Thyago inquired, looking at the Sergeant Major with a wry grin.
“Oh but you never call, you never write. A man can get worried. Besides, I figured I should come onto the bridge and hold your navy boy hands for the scary part,” Avery Pallino barked with a laugh. A veteran to the core, Avery was probably one of the finest marines of the whole Armed Forces. Though some OSTs might wish to argue that. He had been a steadfast companion of Thyago’s since the early days of the Heaven’s War.
“Very well, you may remain. For moral support, of course.”
“Aye aye, boss,” Avery threw a quick salute.
“By the way, have our… guests arrived?”
“They should be reporting now.”
Minutes passed before they appeared. Silverskins, metalheads and other such names. Tsulrati was another, but they were more commonly known as Senti. Aliens from beyond the stars that like the old pieces of fiction resembled humanity though colored and weighed like forged metal. They come to the Old World just before it fell. Most had left Babel to its fate. Most, but not all.
Barely a hundred or so remained. Many had died in a world not of their own. Rusting alongside their comrades' bones.
“Thank you for joining us.” Thyago said, rising from his seat to greet them. He did not salute them, giving them a handshake instead.
“No, thank you Skipper.” The male, copper haired Roagal said. “It is good to finally be aboard a proper ship.”
“Glad to provide,” Thyago chuckled, glad to have them here. They were there for the worst case scenario. If the FTL were to malfunction after a jump, they would be lightyears away from home. At their fastest, the engine would take years, decades to bring them home. But Senti are long-lived and suited for life in the Dark. They would steer the Black Garden and bring it home while its human crew slept in iceboxes. Under rotating marine guard, of course.
“Captain, we’ve been given the all clear,” Pyrrhus piped up from his seat, dispelling Thyago’s thoughts.
“Understood,” he said, retaking his place on the captain’s seat. “All hands! To stations! Time to say goodbye to this dark and dreary planet!”
“Aye, aye!” came the call from all hands. The captain watched as the bridge truly came alive then and there. From here orders rang out to all corners of the ship, all hands working in unison to rouse this beast of titanium with a nuclear heart.
“We’re ready for castoff Captain.” the helm called out, no hint of nervousness in their voice. Thyago smiled.
“All stations, brace for casting off!”
And thus, the rumbling began. Great booming roars that put thunder to shame and shook the ship, almost threatening to bring it apart. It rose unto the darkness of night and for a brief moment all of Chaldea had a small sun of their own.
Soon, a red dot began to shine brighter in the windows, piercing the darkness. Henna. The red far off sun of the system. And soon after bright dots joined it in the view screen as the Black Garden left atmosphere.
It took ten minutes to leave the gravity well of Ereshkigal behind, passing by the Black Rain patrols that hailed them and wished them luck.
Now came the moment. The plunge into the unknown. Time to be a captain.
“XO, bring up ship wide comms,” he commanded, rising from his chair.
“Aye aye sir. Comms are yours,” came the reply.
Thyago took a deep breath, his exhale coming softly.
“Crew of the Black Garden, this is your captain speaking,” He began, voice steady. “I shall be blunt. We are about to embark on a journey unlike any our people have before. This is in essence a test. Not just of the Yang-Durata warp drive but of us, the BAMF Navy.”
“Can we survive out there in the Dark? Where no one can hear us scream, nearly centuries away from any inhabitable planet? Will our engines hold, stay true for our journey? Can you rely and be relied upon by your crewmembers? All eyes are on us. To fail or succeed.” Thyago laid the dangers and the stakes. Just a little push now, before the pull.
“Perhaps, they are right. Perhaps, we should not tempt Fate, by plunging headlong into the void of space. That we must be cautious now most of all, that we best wait and hope for our brothers and sisters of the other arks.” The captain continued, a small smirk on his face as he laid down the dare, the challenge. “But I think they’re wrong. And I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one on this ship.’
“Hic sunt Dracones,” he uttered that old classical phrase. “Here be Dragons. Those words have been etched on the corner of our earliest maps. Those words have meant the edge of that which was known. Those words have been a warning. To all explorers to take heed that they not be cast asunder by the great unknown. But I say to hell with that!” He roared, his voice a near physical presence across the ship.
“We are Babel! Through steel and sacrifice and ingenuity we now have steel dragons of our own! Today we fly out and face those dragons! We will set out into the void! We will find our countrymen and bring them back. We will set out to new worlds and say HERE BE BABEL! For the sacrifice of those before us! For the betterment of those after us! Love and War!”
The cry was echoed out by every crewmember, their voices crying out as one, carrying all the way from the engine room to the bridge. With a gesture to Pyrrhus, Thyago settled back into his chair. He sighed, closing his eyes as his XO brought the bridge to order.
“Are you always this dramatic, Captain?” Roagal asked, voice tinged with amusement.
“Ask anyone who knows me.” replied Thyago, opening his eyes.
“If anything, he was restrained today,” Pyrrhus piped up, the traitor.
“Hell, only one classical reference? Barely a Magellan speech honestly.” Sgt. Pallino added, a far too innocent smile on his face.
Before he could retort, Ensign Zhao, the helmswoman called out, “Captain, the coordinates have been set. Awaiting your command.”
This was it. No turning back now.
“Very well. Helm, engage the Yang-Durata drive.” Born of research with Senti knowledge, the warp drive functioned much like an old theory of how FTL might be achieved. Using negative mass to contract spacetime in front of the ship and expand spacetime behind it forming a bubble. This allowed the ship to accelerate beyond the speed of light as it rode inside this warp bubble.
“Aye, aye. Warping in 10… 9… 8…” said the ensign.
They had managed it before with small unmanned probes, months ago. It was to their coordinates they now flew to. Seven jumps. Seven jumps of increasing duration and then the final test. A non stop full burn back to Ereshkigal.
“4… 3…”
The view into the starry void in front of the bridge began to shimmer, like a heat mirage over scalding tarmac. The waves quickened, almost as if the ship itself was shaking, coalescing with violet light into a single point.
“2… 1… Warp!”
It burst like a supernova as the screen was filled with strange fey indigo light, stars blurring into streaks of light. It was strangely underwhelming as there was no turbulence or sound. Just the swirling of space time around the ship.
Seconds passed by. Then minutes. Then just as the first hour passed, the crew finally allowed themselves to relax. Much like bows, one couldn’t be pulled taut forever.
“It’s strangely soothing isn’t it?” Thyago asked his XO, electronic eyes mesmerized by the warp manifolds in front of them.
“Aye.” Pyrrhus said.
Another hour passed, before the Helm piped up, “Coming up on the departure point Captain.”
“Very well. Zhao, try not to crash the ship, will ya?” Thyago said, receiving nervous laughter in return.
Much like the steady building of the bubble of spacetime, taking it down was best done gradually and slowly easing the warp bubble down. They could not simply turn it off without the ship being damaged from stress, though Thyago and Pyrrhus had played with the idea in tactical simulations.
It was so quiet that Thyago could hear Avery chewing his cigar, Pyrrhus popping the bones of his hand. All eyes on the Yue helsmwoman as she plied her craft. Slowly and surely, the indigo waves slowled and steady, like sea waves losing their wind. The streaks turned to points in the dark tapestry of space. There was a small lurch of motion as the last remnants of constricted spacetime pushed the ship forwards as if by inertia.
The bridge was silent.
“Sensors.” The captain commanded, the single word carrying the crew’s entire hope.
The ensign at the sensor station, MacKennedy Thyago believed his name was, typed away at his keyboard, each keystroke resounding like a heartbeat.
A gasp. Followed by the young man’s turning towards Thyago. A face that broke into a grin.
“Captain, I have a positive ID on the first probe. We have successfully traveled over 3 billion miles.”
No one can hear you scream in space. Not even the jubilant shouts of joy of a lone ship who had brought the stars closer than ever.