The YWS Fleet

Grif made his way to the heart of the SPEW Gryphon, the central reactor. It was silent, a result of the reactors being offline. Damaged components littered the area. Grif brought up the nanite applicator, aimed at the damage, and fired. A stream of glowing particles shot out, splashed against the damage, then faded into a glow as the nanites repaired the damage. The glowing would spread from one damaged section to the other, fading when there was nothing left to repair.

He would periodically stop to reprogram the applicator to repair more specialized equipment.

"With the main reactors back online, we can run the automated damage repair system, however it will take a fair amount of time before the ship will be back kat full strength, assuming that they'll work now," Adelaide said.

"Fire it up," Grif said. The process took longer than usual and when speed was essential they would be skipped. Considering the level of damage though, Grif was taking no chances. As the reactor started, the various components came to life, and added to the growing background noise. A senior engineer would be able to diagnose a problem in the reactor by simply listening.

Finally, the process was complete. The reactor glowed a healthy blue color.

"Power has been restored. I'm shifting the majority of it to the nanite repair systems," Adelaide said.

"How about engines?"

"Maneuvering thrusters only."

"Get us moving. Prioritize engine and shield repairs," Grif advised.

Personnel

YWS Name: Alteran

Review Stars: 3 Blue, 2 Yellow

Appearance/Description: Alteran is average height for a male of his age, though his age is indeterminate as he never reveals it. His hair is blue most of the time. He wears medium durability carbon fiber plated armor reinforced with a few select advanced alloys. The armor is under his normal clothing. He usually wears a brown robe over himself, especially on away missions to keep his identity more or less secret since there are quite a few people that recognize him easily.

History: Alteran has been around for six years. His identity has changed in that time, but his want to protect YWS has never faltered. His exploits before joining YWS are kept to himself, but his most noticeable feature is a fairly advanced understanding of mystical properties. This understanding, coupled with a knack for engineering led him to construct the schematic for the YWS Highwind. His crew is hand picked and have been through many adventures with him. He has fought countless battles with the Spammians who always seem to get right where Alteran is going.

Ship Information

Ship Name: YWS Highwind
Fleet: YWS
Ship Type: Cruiser
Appearance/Description:

History: The YWS Highwind was built before the discovery of the MacGuffin device. It's appearance into the YWS fleet was something of a mystery, but it's usefulness in missions to protect the Station have been invaluable. During the Assault on the YWS Station, Alteran was forced to use it's Hyperdrive without calculating the destination. Luckily the ship was not put inside an asteroid, planet or sun, but at the current moment the YWS Highwind is lost in an unknown region of the galaxy.

DragonGirl11 stood on a chair on the bridge, facing what was left of her crew. They were a small bunch, only twenty at the best of time, and the ship was not a very big place. Everyone was all up in everyone else's business. Since the battle, there had been an increased number of petty quarrels that she had ahd to resolve, and it seriously cut into productive time. She began what she hoped was a speech inspiring enough to get them at least part of the way home. "I know times have been tough since the battle. We are all struggling to reconcile ourselves with the deaths of our five crewmates, both personally and professionally as we try to fill the voids they left, and it is difficult for all of us. However, the YWS station may still be in danger. We have to fix the hyperspace engine and get back there as soon as possible. We are all anxious to get back home. I don't have to tell you the urgency of the situation. We must get the hyperspace engine fixed as quickly as possible. To do that, we must stick together and at least pretend to get along.

"If your neighbor stinks-" Dragon paused with a chuckle. "Well, if he stinks you might want to tell him nicely to take a shower for all of our sakes. But if you think somebody's annoying, suck it up, Princess! There are more important things right now than whether Johnny and Suzy get along. We are a family as much as a team, and maybe even more than that. Families can be dysfunctional when they are in such close quarters as we are all the time. We do not have that luxury." DragonGirl11 stepped off the chair. Everyone milled about, heading back to their work stations.

"I want a full report from all departments before you go anywhere," called DG over the hubbub. One by one, the chief officer from each department came up to her, saluted, and gave their report. Everyone still living was fully healed, save for one broken leg and a torn ligament. Excellent progress was being made on the hyperspace engines, but most of the navigation system would be down for quite a while, until they could get the AI back online. Luckily, they were graced with some of the best pilots in the fleet, and were steadily puttering just below the speed of light for home. Satisfied, the captain called for the first officer to relieve her of duty, and retired to her quarters.

Spoiler

(Sorry this is so long in coming- Christmas preparations and work have really kept me busy.)

Shady/Defiance/deep space:


I walked down the smooth white hallway towards the bridge- my boots clipping quickly on the floors. It was a mostly empty, only a few of the medical staff walking down on their way from the mess hall to their levels of the ship-- my crew was no where to be seen- which was right, if I had seen any I would have given them hell- it was the artificial night on the ship and those not on the skeleton crew of the deck should be sleeping or somehow resting.

Running my hands through my hair I sighed- the battle had not gone well, many ships and users gone, and worse then that some just plain missing- that was more heart-wrenching, knowing my friends and people I admired were just missing.

Just then my Com link- the thing that linked me to my ship began to beep softly- I pulled it out and switched it on.

"Hey Defiance,"

"Hello Miss Shady." His deep baritone voice rumbled on the com. I rolled my eyes- the old computers were so old fashioned in their person interface. "Are you quite well?

" I'm reasonably well Def thanks- how are you?"

"Functioning as always Miss Shady."

"Oh, really? Functioning? I'm glad to hear it." my voice dripped with sarcasm.

"... Have I offended?" I ran my fingers through my hair*

" No you haven't, I'm sorry. I'm just worried...."

"About the Missing ships and crews?"

"Yes." There was a long pause,

"Well, I was contacting you to inform you I have picked up something on my scanners. it is weak but I believe it is one of the wounded ships."

I stood at the bridge once again, looking out upon our approach to the shuttle-port. It was one of the larger ones, that's why there was an enemy cruiser docked at the far end. We had cloaked our signal so they could not detect our approach.

'I'm assuming you want us to dock as far from the enemy ship as not to get discovered if any of them are doing a search Captain?'

'You nailed it on the head Toby.' He adjusted the trajectory of the ship with a few touches of the control panel on his screen. A slight smile on the corner of his mouth. This made me smile, making another crew member smile or cheer them up, especially due to the recent series of events, made me feel good.

'Dress casual men, we want to blend in. We might even have a beer or 2 before we surprise the hell out of the bastards.' I placed my hands behind my back as I watched us pull into the dock. All clearance was given, and specific instructions had been sent to the Portmaster as to not give up our identity in arrival.

15 minutes later I was standing in the docking bay with 14 of my best men. We had all changed out of our uniforms and into more casual looking clothes, though nothing too loose as to interfere with our fighting styles. I had a close fitting white shirt and a loose pair of plain khakis, my holsters still at my hips. I smiled at my men.

'Are we ready for our little holiday?' Some of them placed knives and concealed pistols, and even a self assembly rifle that Miseno had placed down the back of his loose fitting cardigan.

'Yes Captain.'

'And from now you will call me Skyy, no Captains or Sirs, that might just them a hint as to who we are if their listening.' I pressed the docking bay opening hatch and waited for the ramp to go down before walking down it, my men following me.

The Port was alive with activity, a cargo liner was being loaded, a market was at work, sellers of multiple different races yelling at the top of their voices to compete with other sellers. I searched for the Tavern of the port. If there was one place to look it would be there. I stopped for a second and turned to face Tom, one of the engineers.

'Do you have the goods?' I asked

'I do.' He said grinning, putting his hand in his pocket.

'I want you, Paul, Kirk and Harry to go and find their ship, you know what to do from there, I'll buy you all a drink later.' I looked at them all individually as I said their names. They nodded and headed off to find the dock arm the furthest away.

'Lets go have a drink.' I said, walking off down a street, heading towards the loudest place that could be heard from a mile round on the Port.

Alteran Looked over the map of the galaxy again. Trying for the hundredth time to figure out where they had ended up after the Hyperspace Jump. It did him no good.

"You need to get some sleep, captain," Nutty was standing at the doorway of lab.

"Yeah, I know," he replied, "I have to figure out where we are though. I have to get us home."

"We'll get there eventually. You're not going to be much help if your exhausted though. Just go to bed. I'll watch the sensors for the night." She took a seat at the monitoring station. Alteran decided to do as he was told for once and made his way to the lifts. He rested his head against the cold metal wall as the lift carried him down to the living quarters.

The sounds of everyone sleeping was a comfort as he walked the hall to his quarters. They trusted him with their lives, a trust he could never understand or act like he deserved, but he would do his best to ensure they weren't wrong in placing their trust with him.

I wonder how everyone else from the fleet is. I hope everyone survived. He finally succumb to sleep. Hoping that tomorrow would give him fresh insight on their predicament.

Rydia

There was good news and there was bad news. The good news was that as the ship came into view it was flying the YWS colours. The bad news was that it was also spitting fire.

Rydia pulled hard on the controls and boosted the thrusters but the poor little ship was already at its breaking point and it was so unfair! It was unfair that she was going to be shot down by friendly fire and unfair that the poor person in the other ship would never forgive themselves for killing one of their own. Heather didn't know who she felt more bad for. No, wait. She did. Her. She felt more bad for her because she was going to die!

Grabbing for the coms, Heather pressed the wires together and the speakers sputtered online. "Stop. Decease. Please, just hear me out!" Heather shouted over to the other ship. There was a pause as Heather leaned heavily against the controls. There was a beeping inside the ship and it hung crookedly in the air. How it was even flying she didn't know but it shuddered closer to the larger vessel. Please.

Gradually a response came over the speakers but it was uncertain. "Kitty?" Heather grabbed for the microphone. "Yes," she roared. "Yes. Shady it's me!"

There was another heart wrenching pause. "But how do I know it's the real you?" And Heather's heart plummeted in her stomach because she didn't know how to prove it.

"Ask me questions?" she suggested in a shaky voice. But what if she got them wrong?

With the ship repairing itself, Grif was able to take a step back and think. There was quite a bit to sort out. His background in math took over. He began to write a document in the style of a proof.

Given:

YWS Station is destroyed. The SPEW Gryphon is at 15% hull integrity. YWS fleet whereabouts and status are unknown. There has been no communication from the Fleet. Enemy positions and dispositions are unknown.

Grif had expected it to take a lot longer to make a list. Something was missing. Then he remembered.

Also, the SPEW Gryphon is in possession of the two things Nate needs to restore YWS to it's former strength. Which is a problem because a stray ship could probably take us out.

Then Grif remembered.

"Adelaide, display emergency protocol forty-two," Grif asked. There was no response, but the relevant document appeared on the display.

Emergency Protocol 42 (Code EP42)

Upon reception of Code EP42, all ship computers will plot a random course away from YWS Station and after three random jump vectors, will converge on the TSR Rally Point. To be used if YWS Station has suffered serious functional issues.

"I think it's destruction qualifies. Adelaide, has EP42 been broadcast?"

"We haven't received it, but we took serious damage to our communication equipment. We could have missed it."

"Let's make sure. Activate the hyper-luminal comm array and broadcast EP42."

"Charging the hyper-luminal comm array. Activating the array will also reveal our position to any nearby units, friend or foe," Adelaide warned.

"Understood. We'll just have to make our randomized jumps quickly. Activate when ready," Grif said.

"Activating now," Adelaide said.

Alteran woke after a few hours of sleep to the sound of the ship's alarm blaring. He bolted from his bed, still clothed he ran down the corridor to the bridge. His crew was scrambling to their stations as well.

"Report!" Alteran demanded towards Nutty who was rapidly clicking away at the monitoring console.

"We've started to receive a mass transmission. I'm calculating it's location now."

"What is the transmission?"

"Emergency Protocol 42."

Alteran felt his stomach bubble with joy. There were others. They were still out there. It wasn't over.

My step did not falter as I walked from the street into the bar, but I glanced back at my men, a 'ready' signal in case we were recognized.

There was a sweltering heat in the bar, though at the same time there was not, you could probably get drunk from breathing in the fumes it was that dense, almost a shallow mist. There was probably about a hundred sailers, traders, merchants and soldiers in the bar. All laughing and slapping each others backs with drunken laughter. They tripped over one another. A fist fight was occurring in the back corner between 2 hulking figures which I could not distinguish. I hesitated only for a second before heading for the bar. I put a slight dis-coordinated walk about my person, to blend in, making it look as if I were already drunk.

'1 for me self! and 1 for all me mates!" I yelled at the barman over the noise, slightly slurring my words. He slid the pints of Ale over, which kind I didn't know but I took it any way. I sat on a stool and rested my arms on the bar behind my back, and turned to face the rest of the bar. My crew took up similar positions, Miseno decided the floor would be comfortable, he stretched his legs out and slid to the floor.

A new group of roughly 18 men staggered into the bar, obviously going around all the other bars on the port. These looked like our guys. They had rifles slung over their shoulders and energized swords at the hips. Dormant. They staggered over to the bar and started yelling at the barman for drinks to be served. They were given and they all began to take swigs from their glasses, only to be thrown all over their faces and down their front. An explosion rocked the room.

'WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!' Yelled on of the soldiers, throwing his empty pint glass to the floor. The room was in shock at the explosion and the noise had almost been silenced. I smiled slightly in the corner of my mouth.

'You sure it wasn't your arse me dear friend?' I said gesturing with my pint glass, I had managed to save most of it. He swung round and eyed me up. He was an ugly brute. A jutting square jaw and sagged jowls, only to be supposted by 2 stubbed tusks. His dirty pink flesh was scarred and blackened with dirt. He had massive shoulder and fists the size of small cannonballs, which were clenched at his side.

'What was that?' He said, stalking over to me. Miseno sneezed, supposedly and caught his leg, which sent him tumbling towards me, I held my arms out and stepped to the side. He was on his face in the next second.

'Sorry I'm a bit hazy with these arms at the minute boyo!' I placed my now empty pint glass on the bar. The bar now watched, in silence. They knew the deal with this guy. He slammed a fist into metal floor, denting it and stood up with an infuriated pose.

'Suppose you think that's funny?' He snorted through his nose.

'Perhaps.' I said, now sobered.

'How bout destroying a station? that funny?' He stood back, his hand drifting to his energized sword on his hip.

'That's right bitch. Me.'

Ding dong!

DragonGirl11 sat up in her bunk. "Enter," she said groggily.

The doors slid open. The first officer, in his silver-trimmed uniform, stepped through and saluted. "This had better be important," growled the Captain.

"We have received a transmission, Captain," he said.

DragonGirl groaned and fell back in bed. "Is that all, Neil? You know how to handle transmissions. Let me sleep."

"I think you want to hear this one," said Neil. "Walter, play the transmission we just received." He paused, waiting for the AI to do as he commanded, but nothing happened. "Of course," he laughed, and went to the computer panel in the wall to play it manually.

"Emergency Protocol 42? It can't be," breathed DragonGirl. "That means the YWS station-" Neil nodded grimly. She got out of bed and strode out the door. The few crew members on duty were slightly shocked to see their captain parading about the bridge in her reliefs, but there she was, and demanding to know what ship had broadcasted the message.

"We don't know," said the young engineer at the communications desk. "The ship must have jumped here, broadcast it, then jumped away again. It was already following the protocol itself."

DragonGirl11 nodded. "This means that something terrible has happened: the YWS station has been critically damaged, possibly destroyed. On the bright side, we are not as far away from other ships as we had thought. Commence Emergency Protocol 42," she ordered. "I'm going back to bed."

YWS Name: Skull3670 or Skully
Review Stars: 1 yellow
Appearance/Description: 6ft2 with shaggy blonde hair. Mk.II Combat boots (because the old ones are far comfier, Stella be damned!), faded old world blue jeans, standard body armour over a tight black t shirt and a chemical stained lab coat. Evidence of cybernetic implants can be seen on close inspection.
History: Over many years of adventures including a mishap with a comms array which delayed an Armadas deployment to becoming a member of the legendary Triple S unit, Skully has grown and changed. Now a Sparrow Class Pilot and Science Officer of the Arwen he continues to believe in the good that expressing yourself can bring.
TL:DR Engineer to Pilot to Science Officer. Old hand at this space stuff.

Ship Information

Ship Name: The Iron Casque
Fleet: ERA
Ship Type: Single pilot interception and assault craft
Appearance/Description: From afar it appears sleek as a needle. Up close the clunky almost home made quality of the block becomes apparent. Many bumps and scrapes adorn it's thick metal plating (in a mish mash of colours from being repaired with whatever was on hand). She's a noisy, quirky old brute but she does the job.
History: Initially a Sparrow class dog fighter, it has since suffered damage that in many cases left it little more than a chassis, Skully always rebuilt her no matter the time it would take. Having been re-purposed to drop troops onto the field and even to transport live specimens for the lab she bears a clunky home-made quality. Now clunky, quirky but ever reliable she continues to serve faithfully and admirably.






It's not often one wakes to find themselves drifting alone in the vastness of space. In fact Skully could count on one hand the number of times it had happened to him (usually as a result of Kobain and a vile alcoholic beverage he had entitled 'The Viking'). As the grogginess wore off he could feel the ripe fresh bruises along his left side begin to throb. It was the memories came flooding back.
Sirens blaring, emergency lights flashing, the corridor behind a tornado of flame. The thud of boots. My boots. Running as fast as my legs would carry me. I caught a glimpse of the missile tearing toward the hull. Jumping into the Casque. A sickening lurch, bright white light, my left side colliding with the pilots seat and then darkness.
My attempt to discern my location from the HUD was met with sparks and a flash flood of colour. A seemingly meaningless line of code continued to cycle past.

~~Life Support Cycles remaining: 65
##EP42 instigated##
% survival likely hood: 50/50
Initiate random jump sequence? Y/N

"That's no random code!" The realisation shocking me enough to engage in a conversation with myself.
"EP42. That means the station...oh...oh dear. Concentrate, got to concentrate. This ship was never intended for long term deep space survival. Hell it only has an jump compatible ion drive because there wasn't another central array spare on the rebuild."
There was a paused as I performed a quick mental computation.
"65 cycles of life support, minus the energy needed for the three jumps that is maybe 35 cycles. Due to the minor hull breach that's 5 cycles a day. If I do this I have seven days to be found and picked up or I'm a dead man. Emergency cryo sleep would buy me a few more days but then I couldn't hail for rescue."
I sat in stony silence. 50/50 survival odds. I'd made it through worse but the side effects of emergency cryo sleep we're as yet still unknown.
"Or alternatively float about out here, alone, for 13 days and still die."
My hand hovered over the console.
"Geronimo."

/Y

The SPEW Gryphon arrived at TSR Station. The Station had been constructed after a massive power failure ripped YWS station apart. Members of YWS had arrived in a massive exodus and had stayed for the three months it took to bring YWS Station back online. TSR was old and had the most basic of forum infrastructure. Now, the station was surrounded by YWS ships, all of which had taken some form of fire or another. The largest of the ships was the YWS Caldwell.

The YWS Caldwell was special among the YWS Fleet. The ship was built around a single large hanger. The SPEW Gryphon could easily fit inside the hanger. Numerous smaller hangers were positioned around the ship, allowing fighter squadrons to quickly deploy from inside.

"We're being hailed by the Caldwell," Adelaide said.

"On screen," Grif said. Nate appeared on the screen. He looked like he hadn't slept for a few days.

"Grif, we had assumed the worst."

"Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. I succeeded in securing the items. I request permission to dock immediately with the Caldwell to transfer them to you."

"Unfortunately, we can not receive them. The SPEW Cat's Eye is currently undergoing repairs and will not be able to move for some time. When it can, we'll take them from you. We will be having a moderator briefing in an hour."

"I'll be there," Grif said.

"Uh, Captain? How are we supposed to activate EP42 with no hyperspace engines?" asked the pilot

DragonGirl turned, halfway in the lift already. "Oh, right." She rubbed her eyes and stepped back on the bridge. "Can we make small jumps?"

The pilot shook her head.

"How long will it take us to get to TSR with sublights?"

"A day or so."

"Make it so," DragonGirl11 said as she turned back into the lift.

As the lift doors slid shut, she heard the pilot laugh, "Yessir, Captain Picard."

Rydia

There were many questions and they ranged from what colour the Caldwell was to how many eggs you got in a baker's dozen. But eventually Shady was satisfied that this was the real Rydia and she allowed her to board her ship.

Shady scrutinised her as Rydia stepped onboard. "Well you do look like her," she said slightly cautiously and after a smile there was much hugging and tackling and knocking over of objects.

Eventually Rydia was sitting with a cup of hot chocolate - the first she'd had in weeks! - and she let out a soft, contented sigh.

"Where were you headed?" Rydia asked, reaching down to rub her bad leg carefully. She'd almost got it crushed in the emergency door as she was fleeing the exploding enemy cruiser. But with limited supplies the healing was taking a long time.

"I'm on a rescue mission, picking up stragglers like you," Shady explained. "But it's quiet this side of the station so I'll be turning around now. I can drop you off on the way?"

"Drop me off where?" Rydia asked, frowning slightly. "I don't know much, but I heard the base went down." It didn't need saying that she'd wrecked the passing enemy fighter which delivered the bad news. That had set her back aways on her slow journey back to the more familiar zones, edging along in the broken fighter.

"The TSR Rally point of course. We've got ships coming in from all over under '42."

Rydia shook her head and smiled. "Of course, good old TSR," she murmured as she fell asleep hugging the mug against her.

When Rydia next woke the ship was stationary and Shady was gently shaking her shoulder to tell her they were there. "Hey, Kitty? I called ahead and I said that you were sleeping, but the boss wants to see you."

"Uhhrrr?" Rydia rubbed her eyes sleepily and blinked away the haze. "Oh, oh yeah. Don't 'spose I could have a bath first and you could find me something to wear?" Heather's heart was already leaping in her chest at the thought of finding out who had survived or whether her ship had made it through in one piece. But she didn't want them to see her looking like such a shadow of herself; nobody rallied behind a shadow.