Young Writers Society

Hayden MacQuinn - Fighter Bay: 1330 hours

"You are a beautiful baby aren't you sweetie."

Hayden gave his Persephone Rage fighter a once over, admiring her sheik appearance. Out of woman, booze and his fighter he missed his fighter the most in isolation. Taking out a cloth he began to rub her down, like a woman, 'Gráinne Ní Mháille' was open to suggestions of how to bathe her. A fighter, but a beautiful one at that.

He missed Ireland, and this ship was only thing that kept him tethered to his homeland. Being out in space in god knows where, he felt a certain homesickness, would he ever see Seamus, O'rielly and Meg again? And Meg what a woman, gorgeous black hair tied up in a ponytail, fine body, exquisit personality, and in the moment of afterglow, Hayden thought only of a Goddess.

Being that he had never loved anyone, he used them, Meg was different, a wonderful spritish girl, who laughed at his jokes, and found it funny how people fell for Hayden and then found out after he was a jerk. You need have only read the newspaper to find out about him. Not that he was famous, but more than once he broken up a wedding and gleefully sent the girl to heaven and back.

That last night with her, was the best shag ever.

People underestimated small people, no one really figured he'd get anywhere at home, working in his Father business he had a firm understanding the intricaticy of most vehicles. His Father had told him treat each job like a woman, show her love, give her things to beautify her, and promise her the world. Most of all respect that bond you share.

But here he was, a hotshot pilot, with much beautiful woman who bedded him and certain amount of reverance.

The academy was a great laugh, the hazing ritual was hilarious. he had to bed the Academy nurse and swear her to secretcy he chose instead to go sweet Maria, a kitchen maid from France. He learnt that day what they say about France is true, it's the country of love. But he would add, kinky love.

The nurse was old and horrible looking, but Maria she had a child hood innocence he wanted to exploit. he first called her pretty names, then acted a gentleman, finally he kissed her 'accidently' and well one thing led to another.

Blair was nonplussed, and had to admit Hayden had passed the hazing ritual. Though he behaved rest of time mostly, except when Maria came. But because she never told he never got into trouble. It did dawn on him that she loved him, he didn't love her, he loved her body and accent. But from heart. Nah

Returning to present he smiled, Ireland never a place like you.

Just as he massaged the grime out of 'Grainne Ni Mhaille' he heard his leader come in. He heard because she ran as per usual screaming, "Hayden, how many bloody times? How many bloody times?"

"I count 78 Kitty."

"It's Kat... and not the other name you call me either."

Hayden chuckled.

Going back he continued washing 'Grainne'.

The leader sighed, "I just don't understand you Hayden, you're rude, you womanize, and drink a lot, but when it comes to this ship, you just clean it and treat it like a person."

Shrugging Hayden continued.

"... Okay, well here to tell you Hayden, that we're entering unknown galaxy and well Riggs had informed me to get our best fighters out to scout ahead.

No reply.

Just as she was about to demand an answer, a great explosion shook the ship, Hayden fell and banged his head, muttering curses in Irish gaelic, "What the fuck we hit a bloody whale?!"

Kat got back up, "I'm really not sure..."

Without another thought Hayden tucked rag in his pocket and ran off. Time for a very long drink, to beat down this headache.

Isaac Vanderbilt - The Bar, 1.18PM

Isaac poured himself another glass of wine and let time – and an awkward silence – drag by as he slowly drained the glass. What else could he do when asked such an inane question?

How was he? How did he appear, surrounded by worried people and clutching his worry notebook as if it was his lifeline? Beautiful, perhaps. But that was beside the point. Elle ought to know better than to ask nonsense.

“Isaac? I asked you a question.”

Yes, she did. And he was painfully aware of it. He emptied his glass, setting it down on the counter at the same time Roan finished his mug. Shaun swept both the mug and the wine glass off the counter, but Isaac gestured for the bartender to give him another glass of wine. This wouldn’t do at all.

“What’s with the two of you today? You look like we’re never going home.” Shaun chuckled, winking at Roan.

Isaac winced at the comment. Dear Shaun, if you knew what was happening you wouldn’t make such a morbid joke. Lizzie’s high-pitched giggle pierced the air as she poured Isaac another glass of wine.

Roan elbowed his subordinate, granting Isaac a glare. The message hit its mark. Drinking too much did no one good.

“Nothing, Paladin. Just Riggs going off on another tangent.”

Shaun slid himself onto a seat opposite Roan, and as he did so his hand brushed against Isaac’s hair. Not that Isaac paid too much attention. His grip tightened around the glass and he thought he heard a faint crack.

“Down boys. Riggs wouldn’t be Riggs if he didn’t do crazy things. Let him have his fun for a while.”

Letting Captain Riggs have his fun was tantamount to suicide in this case. “Letting him have his fun is dangerous business,” Isaac murmured.

“I don’t know. This time seems different.” Roan shook his head, as if trying to shake off his misgivings about the captain’s decision.

“Howso?” Shaun swung around to face Isaac, gazing into Isaac’s eyes. Isaac dropped his gaze, unable to face the bartender after their failure to convince Captain Riggs of the folly of the mission. “Your friend here seems awful down. Is it really that bad?”

“We’re heading to the Dead Zone, Paladin. Chasing after a distress call without permission.”

Isaac’s grip on his glass weakened and it shattered on the floor, entering the company of the other glasses which fell at Roan’s revelation. Gasps filled the air, dragging the tension up a notch.

“Are you serious?” muttered one of the pilots.

A sardonic chuckle fled from Isaac’s lips. “That’s right, folks. We’re heading into the Dead Zone. We hope you enjoy the trip.”

“Now come on. It’s not that bad. The Demeter family has been in tighter spots.” Roan sounded confident, confident enough to fool a handful of his audience, but his performance was nowhere near good enough to trick Isaac into believing the act. Roan’s voice was stuffed with a desperate hope reminiscent of a dying person trying to assure his beloved he was going to survive.

The crowd around them tightened their circle. Complaints rang out, one by one at first, but frenzied towards the end. Isaac clutched his notebook tighter. It wouldn’t be good for them, any of them, to know what Isaac thought would happen. Some of these people regarded him as a prophet of sorts.

“Isaac. What do you think will happen?” Elle asked.

Oh right. She knew about his little notebook. Isaac gave a half-hearted shrug in a vain attempt to throw her off the notebook, but she’d noticed it and lunged for it. Roan noticed and took charge of the situation.

“Ladies, gentlemen!” he roared. “Isaac and I will fix this, so keep –“

Just then, an announcement rang out, asking Roan and Isaac to meet with the captain. Sweet freedom. Roan grabbed at Isaac’s wrist, but Isaac was already ahead of Roan, tearing away from Elle and the rest of the crowd and out the bar.

However, Isaac had to hand Roan credit for fending off the crowd.

Isaac Vanderbilt - The Bridge, 1.25 PM

“Boys, I’ve called you both here for a very important meeting.”

Isaac shifted his weight from one foot to another, chewing his lip. Sending all the men away didn’t sit well with Isaac, not one bit. Roan seemed cool, comfortable as always. What Isaac would give to be as calm as that man.

The captain coughed into his sleeve. Isaac drew back, half in disgust and half worried he might catch whatever the captain had. “It would appear,” the captain coughed again, “that my approval ratings have dropped.” The captain started wheezing and coughing harder. Isaac raised an eyebrow, especially when he noticed the blood on the captain’s sleeve. Roan didn’t seem to notice anything, however, so Isaac kept his mouth shut. “So I believe I might be making an – error.“

The captain collapsed into a fit of coughs again, and Roan waited patiently for the captain to stop. Isaac, however, was on the verge of approaching the captain to help. Isaac had noticed the extremely slight rash on the captain’s neck.

Poisoning…?

Roan glanced at Isaac, and Isaac desperately tried to tell Roan there was something wrong. Horribly wrong with the captain. When the captain recovered he stepped away from the glass panel and towards the two boys, scratching at his neck.

“So my purpose in –“

Pfft. Boom. Pffft thwack.


The floor danced under their feet, causing all three to scramble for balance. Isaac did a bit of footwork, the captain pressed his back against the glass that separated the three of them from the dark abyss beyond and Roan grabbed hold of a computer desk.

“What was –“

Boom. Thwack.

Then, a final resonating boom.

The bridge shuddered at first, then it shook, shook with all its might. The grinding sounds underneath them continued, accompanied by a series of tiny crackling sounds. Isaac looked up in horror at the web of cracks spreading throughout the glass, the glass which Captain Riggs had pressed himself against. Roan grabbed Isaac, pulling him towards the mainframe right before a final earsplitting crack assaulted their ears.

Everything was a mess after that. A storm of glass zipped about, scratching Isaac everywhere. Air escaped the bridge, pouring out the hole. There was no time to save Captain Riggs, nor any moment to listen to the captain’s pitiful screams. Isaac tore at the computer, breaking away a few wires and tying them around his waist with little regard as to how tight they were. As long as they were knotted well, it was all right. What happened to the defense shields? Why were they taking so long? The deafening roar of the vacuum filled the air, mercifully drowning out the captain’s screams – if the captain was still screaming.

A dozen scenarios flashed through Isaac’s mind, and only one of them ended with Roan alive. Roan.

Isaac turned around in time to see his friend fly towards the vacuum. He immediately abandoned working on a more secure knot and grabbed Roan’s arm. It felt as if his arm would be torn off its socket, but Isaac held on. Roan was not going to survive any other way. If Isaac lost his arm then…

He didn’t want to think about it, but he had to at least try to save Roan.

“Roan! Hold on!” Isaac didn’t really think he had to remind Roan of that, but just to be on the safe side, as Roan’s fingers were slipping away.

Roan grabbed onto Isaac’s arm with his other hand and pulled himself closer until Isaac’s other arm could reach Roan. Isaac pulled his friend into a hug that would literally save the other’s life, all while praying the wires wouldn’t break.

Then Isaac thought he heard something snap, and he held on to Roan tighter, shutting his eyes and praying that if ever he died, he would go to a better place. A second snap, and Isaac felt his blood run cold.

And Isaac dropped to the ground, grunting as something heavy fell on top of him.

“Isaac?”

It took Isaac a while to hear it, as he still heard the echoes of the roaring vacuum in his ears. But that was Roan. Isaac opened his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Are we dead?”

Isaac hoped not. He’d always thought heaven would be a better place. This one looked just like the ship. “I hope not.”

Isaac then pushed Roan off himself and sat up, running a hand through his tangled hair and smoothing it out. The door to the bridge opened with a swoosh and people swarmed in, full of questions. Isaac sat still, holding his head, allowing Roan to handle all of it.

He had no idea what happened, as a few minutes later people were celebrating. Did something good happen? Isaac wasn’t sure. All he knew was that his clothes were tattered, his watch broken and he looked pale. His glasses had been taken during the defense's failure, but no worry. He had a few other pairs in his room. His head, though, was still reeling from what happened.

Then he heard two things, though dimly. “Captain Chbosky…”

Captain? Roan was captain? Isaac looked up at his beaming friend. Then that meant – Captain Riggs really did - ? Isaac’s stomach churned and he tasted his lunch coming back up.

“I have to go –“ He tore out of the bridge and towards the closest washroom, where his lunch came back out with a vengeance.

Isaac's breathing was heavy as he leaned on the cold tiles of the washroom's wall. He survived. Good Lord, he survived.

But someone had tried to poison the captain, tried to murder the captain. Whatever happened in that bridge was no accident. Isaac threw up even more.

Someone might try to kill Roan next. He had to warn Roan.

“Isaac? You all right?” Roan called out from outside the washroom.

“Yeah, but I – we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Later. I need – I need to clear my head,” Isaac said, touching his forehead with two cool fingers.

Isaac Vanderbilt -Roan’s Quarters, 1.46 PM

Isaac entered Roan’s room. It was neat, but was obviously not a woman’s room. Isaac knocked again and coughed a bit to announce his presence.

Roan looked up from the bed. “Isaac. You all right?”

“Fine. Just – dizzy.” Isaac leaned on the doorframe and studied Roan. Like him, Roan had a few cuts and bruises here and there, but unlike Isaac Roan had not gotten them bandaged. He made a note to prod Roan to visiting the infirmary later.

The infirmary. Isaac swallowed.

“Roan, have you eaten anything lately?” Was Isaac too late? "Drank anything?"

Roan raised an eyebrow. “Not yet. We're celebrating my promotion tonight. Why?”

“I think…I think someone tried to poison Riggs, but got impatient and was willing to sacrifice us as collateral.”

Roan Chbosky | His Room | 1:42pm

It stung at first, but some things just took time to heal.

I winced as I pressed the alcohol-coated swab to my chest, sucking in air through my teeth as I watched the thin blood run down my abs to my waist. "You may be a god, Roan, but you're not immortal..." I grinned and trashed the bloody swab and flashed myself my famous Roan Smile--one that could fool even me into believing it was all okay.

But it wasn't, of course.

The mirror on my wall watched me as I turned, checking the rest of my torso for cuts. Only four shards of glass had actually stuck to my skin, so I considered myself lucky. It could've been much worse. Though, admittedly, I was scared to check anywhere further south than my belt. I bit down on my tongue, suppressing the instinctive "shit" that came with the fiery sting of an open wound meeting alcohol, but regained my composure almost instantly when I heard a knock, then a second knock, just to be polite.

While Isaac entered, I walked back to my bed, grabbing my Commander's uniform from the rail and slinging it over one shoulder. He walked in and instinctively checked the trash bin, seeing the blood. His eyes trailed across the room and observed every open wound still visible on my skin. That worry-wart. But there was something more on his mind than my cuts... Something he was trying to hide.

"Isaac... You okay?"

His eyes leaped, startled by my question. He swallowed a knot in his throat and let a small mm-hm escape. But he was fidgeting. And a fidgeting Isaac was never a good thing.

"Roan, have you eaten anything lately?" He paused, his eyes widening a bit more in earnest concern. "Drank anything?"

I leaned against the wall, finishing the last few buttons on my uniform while shaking my head. "Not yet... They're celebrating my promotion tonight." I grinned, checking myself once more in the mirror. "Though I'm fairly sure it's also a memorial service for Riggs..." My voice trailed off, my power-blue eyes locked into Isaac's over my shoulder in the mirror image.

"I think…I think someone tried to poison Riggs, but got impatient and was willing to sacrifice us as collateral..."

I arched an eyebrow, turning around to check Isaac. He had his prophet face on. There was a moment, two moments, several...of intense, deep silence.

"How... How do you figure?"

Isaac began fidgeting with a bandage on his left arm, letting his eyes trail to the bottle of rubbing alcohol on the sink and to the case of energy drinks beside my bed. "Riggs... Before he died, on the bridge..."

"Yeah?" I stepped into the wash room, slapping on a small layer of hair gel as he spoke.

"He was coughing, right?"

"Right."

"And there was blood on his sleeve."

I looked up, rinsing my fingers off under the hot water in the sink. Turning around, I came face to face with less of a prophet and more of my friend. Not waiting for a reply, he nodded and continued nervously. And after he was done, we just stood there for ages, me taking it in while he waited patiently like a dog.

"So you're worried that..."

"...you're next..."

I bit down on my bottom lip, contemplating the evidence for a moment. "So if someone who hated Riggs wanted him gone..."

"...the subtle method would be preferred..."

"...but since he got impatient..."

"...a direct blow to the bridge..."

"...would certainly kill him on the spot."

And there we stood, overwhelmed. And just an hour earlier, we had been dead, flying off into our own heavens never to see eachother again... And now...

I quickly shook my head, snapping out of my daze. "Isaac, you've got me thinking like you... There's no need to jump to conclusions."

He shrank back, defeated, but nodded. And I wasn't sure if the nod was as Isaac my friend or Commander Vanderbilt, my subordinate.

"Look... There's a party tonight in our honor. Let's not waste it by being paranoid." I flashed him my Roan-God smile and he weakly flashed his pearls back at me. Putting an arm around his shoulder, I led him to the door. I took a look down the hall at the Captain's quarters, where I'd be staying for now on.

He turned to me, staring me in the eye nervously. "You may be a god, Roan, but you're not immortal."

I grinned, holding up my right ring finger, flashing my old engagement ring. "I have my guardian angel and my faithful prophet." We both began walking towards the ruins of the bridge. "What more could a man need?"

Casey DeMelor. Storage

I watch him to, wiping my lips. Suddenly I run after him. Finnaly catching him I ask softly:
"Is there anywhere I can stay?"

Rachell Burgess, Fighters Dock, 1:33pm

I stepped out of my fighter and raised an eyebrow at Hayden's retreating back. He was one messed up man, that one. I wiped my hands down with the rag I was using to clean the interior of my fighter and muttered, "What was that all about?"

Kat turned her head to me, surprised. "I didn't see you there Rache, you hear that whole thing?" She sounded embaressed for an unkown reason.

I nodded. "And I heard before that...He was sweet-talking his ship. It was sort of creepy actually." I laughed. Hayden was definately screwy in the head. "What was that explosion? Almost knocked me over."

She shrugged. "No idea." She snickered. "Hayden was really sweet-talking his ship was he? He treats that thing better than he treats most women."

I laughed along, though I almost found it more sickening than funny. "Probably trying to bed it down, too." I grinned. "Knowing Hayden, it's quite a possiblility."

Kat looked like she was going to pee herself she was laughing so hard. It was't really that funny...but whatever. "What will we do with him?" she muttered.

I just shook my head. "I have absolutely no idea."

I stepped back inside my fighter and stared at the control panel. One of the buttons was scratched up pretty bad. I groaned. I hated it when they scratched up the controls. Bugged the crap outta me.

I sighed and walked over to it for closer examination. It wasn't just a little bit scratched either, it was a nice long solid line running through the middle of it. I glared at it for a moment before walking out again.

Kat was still standing there, staring at practically nothing. "What are we here for anyways?" I asked, breaking into her train of thought.

She glanced at me quickly. "We're supposed to assemble our best fighters and go out on a little scouting mission."

I groaned. I loved my job and all, and I was proud of being Squadron Leader...but I had been looking forward to going back to my room and just relaxing for once. Either that or going back to the bar and stirring up a good conversation. Oh well.

"When are we going?" I stuffed my hand into my pocket and leaned against the fighter.

Kat shrugged and said nothing. Awkward silence. I hated those things with a passion. "So I suppose a nice trip to the bar this night would be out of the question?"

Kat shrugged again. "I doubt the mission will take quite that long."

It had better not. I needed to dig up more info about this whole Riggs gone crazy thing. How had I managed to get myself so far out of the loop? For all I knew somebody had taken a gun to the captain's head already. I chuckled to myself. It was a possibility.

Sarah Wellers, her room, 1:35pm

I was feeling edgy for some reason. Well, I suppose that the "some reason" was the fact that Rigg had pretty much stranded us in the middle of nowhere. I stared absently at an x-ray of a wild cat from a seperate galaxy. I wasn't really examining it, I just needed something to look at to sooth my panic.

I decided that it wouldn't do much good for me to just sit here and stare at practically nothing. I had stared at this picture dozens of times before. Hundreds even. Why not go down to the bar? I suggested to myself.

Yeah, 'cause the bar was somewhere I was well-known and loved. Great idea me. Then again, there really wasn't anything better to do. I rarely drank, but I decided that I'd make an exception just this once.

I flung my legs over the side of my bed and pulled myself to my feet. I set the picture down on my dresser carefully and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked fine enough. Maybe I'd change into something more...bar-like. Nah, this was fine. I didn't want to look like a slut down there. Bad things as I had learned once before.

Sarah Wellers, the bar, 1:44pm

I stood in the doorway, shifting uneasily on my feet. Nobody paid me much mind at all, so I rendered it safe to walk in and take a seat. A bar tendant approached me and asked me if I'd like anything to drink. I sighed. Why not? It was the reason I had come down here wasn't it? "I'll just have a beer thanks," I muttered.

She smiled and disapeared momentarly. Reappearing, she shoved the beer at me and smiled sweetly. "Don't think I've seen you here before. You with the crew?" She asked casually.

I nodded. "I don't come here often at all really. It's not really my thing," I answered quietly, staring at the bottle in front of me.

Somebody called her name, which I didn't catch and she sent me an appologetic glance. "Love to stay and chat, but duty calls." She smiled and walked away, leaving me compeletely alone with my alchoholic beverage.

I picked up the beer and stared at it, resting my chin in my free hand and propped my arm on the counter top. I twisted the bottle around and watched the dim light glint off of it. I probably looked quite out of place here. Of course I was out of place...but oh well. I let my mind wander.

"Riggs is dead huh? Serves 'im right," a gruff male voice stated beside me.

I shot out of my stupor. Riggs was dead?

"I don't know..." This voice was softer. I didn't look to see where they were coming from. I was too shocked to do anything.

Logan~ Bridge~ 1:55

My job was simple enough. I simply had to sift through any and all transmissions the ship received and translate them if they were in another language. We had equipment to do the same but they tended to screw up the translation and instead of “Our planet is on fire,” you’d get “My pants are in fire.” So I went over them a second time after the computer did and broke down the languages to report messages. I usually went through about five-hundred messages a day. There were a few others with my job and they two went through about five-hundred messages a day. After all outer space was a big place with enumerable amounts of other life other than earth.

I had been asleep when someone came to my door and informed me the Captain was dead. I must say I wasn’t his biggest fan but the news of his death did sadden me. According to the man being head of Alien communications made me third in command after Riggs’s death. I managed over my communications department but there were only three of them and they liked me. The prospect of trying to command a ship freaked me out. Ok two other people had to croak before that happened but still. I had preferred being fourth. It seemed much further away.

So I was sent down to assess the damage while Isaac and Roan cleaned up. All of my equipment was fried and wires popped out of it like un-mowed grass.
Now that the equipment had been damaged my translating job would only get that much harder. I could do it of course but that was a lot to process in a day. I fingered the wires at my counsel which had wires busting out from every direction. I couldn’t help but laugh a little.

I picked up a relatively undamaged phone and called engineering. I wasn’t too surprised when Lucy picked up.

“What do you want,” she snapped.

Lucy was a bit abrasive for my taste. I just smiled.

“We need a team to asses the damage after the explosion. Can you get a team down here and see if you can salvage anything."

“It’s my job isn’t it,” she said.

I continued to smile.

“We’ll be down,” she said before hanging up on me. As if the emphasize this point the phone took this opportunity to fall apart.

Great I thought.

It didn’t take long for the engineering staff to come. Lucy trudged in with her equipment followed by a few others as they started to look at the damage.

“Can you save my communications,” I asked.

She kicked it and the whole front fell of expelling even more wires.
“I’m good but that thing is wasted,” she went over to another console as I looked down at the twisted wires.

Isaac and Roan entered looking surprisingly calm about the whole situation. I on the other hand was freaking out.

Roan addressed Lucy. “So can you save anything?”

She looked down at her clip board. From where I was standing there were a lot of red x’s .
“The navigation system seems to be still intact. I can probably fix the defense system too. But communications are shot.

He nodded then turned to me. “As the head of communications can you make do with no equipment.”

I resisted the urge to smile. I had the horrible knack of smiling at inappropriate times.
“If we can still receive transmissions and can easily translate them, but with the machines down I won’t be able to send messages out.” I paused. “What exactly happened here?”

Under normal circumstance they probably wouldn’t have told me but now I was third seat and I was being sucked into the inner circle of knowledge.

“We believe that it was an attempt on the Captains life,” Roan said.

I nearly chuckled, but restrained the nervous tick. I looked around at all the damage again. Someone went through all this trouble to kill one man. It seemed a bit excessive.
Isaac seemed to follow my train of thought.

“We think he was poisoned first and then who ever did it got impatient and . . .” he indicated the wreckage with his hands.

“I see,” was all I could say.

Lizzie

I pulled my hair back into a short ponytail- don't get me started- and pinned the uneven bits back, Shaun was very particular about the cleanliness of his bar in fact he was downright OCD-ish.

I had just served some girl at the bar. She seemed very quiet, not the ideal drinker. If there was such a thing as the ideal drinker. I had to leave her but as I left I heard someone say Riggs was dead.

Riggs?? Dead?? Impossible. That man was damn near indestructible! He was a risk taker and came out unscathed. He reminds me of your one...eh...what was his name again? Well him anyway.

I handed the customer a pint of beer. Well, life goes on doesn't it. I put on my overly happy smile and turned to my customer.

"So hows the love life?" I asked leaning my elbow on the bar table.

Someone check behind me. I'm not quite sure if this is 500 words or not.

Roan Chbosky | The Ruined Bridge | 2:10pm

As Isaac began explaining...everything, I began to wander around the bridge, checking each mainframe for any sign of sabotage. Nothing. I hadn't realized it during the fiasco, but Isaac and I had completely destroyed Logan's system in trying to save ourselves. Grabbing onto a hanging steel bar, I hoisted myself up onto the destroyed platform where Riggs had taken his last breath. And solemnly, I touched the steel shield that used to be the window.

The whole place would be a cemetery for now on, at least in my eyes. As I slowly shut my eyelids, I whispered a short hail Mary and crossed my chest, warding my condolence for Riggs. But he'd never know it.

"Roan, you should see this." Logan called from the communications desk. Bracing myself, I hopped down onto the main floor and peered down at where Logan pointed.

In the floor was jammed the top of one of the Power Generators. Sparks flew off of it as the lights flickered, but most things remained stable.

"The platform of the bridge," one of the engineers speculated, "must have shifted during the explosion."

Isaac turned to the engineer, his eyes frantic. "But if the floors shifted, that means something's loose in the ship's mainframe..."

The engineer nodded, and Logan exchanged glances with me. "We'll just have to deal with it as we launch a full analysis of what the hell happened here."

I nodded and looked back towards the door as three of the ship's officials entered. They weren't considered in the same class as Isaac and I as far as power, but they carried out official governmental business, namely...my promotion.

"Chbosky, Vanderbilt..." The oldest official with gray hair and thin glasses motioned for us to come near. It was vital that I remembered his name. Chuck, Larry, Ben, David... David.

As Isaac and I approached him, he reached out a hand to shake mine. "Senators... Thank you for joining us on such bad terms."

Senator David ________ shook his head, dismissing the casualty. "Don't you worry yourself over looking official, Chbosky."

Isaac furrowed his eyebrows curiously, but said nothing.

"As horrible as this all may seem, this could possibly be the best thing to happen to the XX Demeter in ages."

The official behind him let out a grim chuckle, but didn't dare smile. "I believe what Senator Dupree is trying to say is..."

"...What I'm trying to say is that I welcome you to the ranks of Captain of the XX Demeter." He turned his head to Isaac and smiled. "And you, Sergeant Commander Vanderbilt, are now commissioned as Commander over the crew, subordinate only to Captain Chbosky."

Isaac tried to return his smile, but let his anxiety get the best of him. If the officials didn't leave soon, he'd have a panic attack...which was never good.

"Senators, if you'll excuse us, we have much work to do before we recognize the shift of power around here."

The senators nodded in agreement.

"Surely three political Dynamos like yourselves would love a nice rest while we sort these things out."

They all nodded again.

"Then it's settled. I'll send for you once the public relations gala commences later this evening."

The three old men nodded one final time and turned, trudging out of the Bridge without another word.

"They're going to call you a hypnotist if you keep up this political talk." Isaac smirked and looked over his shoulder at Logan, who was still fumbling with frayed wires.

"You think we should tell him exactly how those wires got frayed?"

Isaac shook his head, picking out another stray piece of silicone wiring from his waistline. "He's not that much of a fan of yours, is he..."

I shook my head, hushing off the conversation before we returned to him.

"Logan," I looked down at him, knelt over his CPU. "You may retire for the evening. We won't be getting any signals tonight."

Logan stood, giving me the same incredulous glare that Isaac was. "How do you figure?"

I said nothing, but pointed up at the helm of the bridge where the communications tower lay in shambles, delivering a few well-timed sparks onto the engineers below.

He nodded and shrugged. "Alright then. I'll see you two in the galley tonight, then."

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __
Isaac's Quarters | 3:49pm
__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __

Knocking never was a habit of mine.

I walked into Isaac's room, shutting the door after me and looked around, not seeing a trace of him anywhere. The room was set up just like mine, only kept much neater and orderly. Quietly, I walked to his desk and looked down at his notebook, which had recently been scrawled in with his flawless handwriting.

...an alien race could capture the ship, enslaving our women and...

...power failure could lead to Gamma shields dropping, exposing us to...

...poisoned; impatience led the killer to hasty action in detonating the bri...

...Roan may be next

Shuddering, I shut his notebook, looking around the room again for any sign of him. But nothing. Dead silence.

I sighed and sat down at his desk, filming through the notebook carefully. His 'prophecies' dated as far back as three years, back when Isaac was serving under General Fabian of the XX Galleria. I hesitated to look closer, but I didn't think Isaac would mind. After all, it had been his prophecy that had ultimately cost Riggs his li-...

I gulped, shutting the book again. In the sudden silence, I caught the sound of running water in the next room. Getting up from the desk, I leaned an ear against the bathroom door, hearing the faint sound of the cascading shower.

Maybe he was onto something. I still hadn't gotten a close look at the cuts below my belt, and I could use some time to relax, but...

...but I was captain. I couldn't take time to relax or to feed obsessive habits.

Aimlessly, I sat down at his desk once more and began to film through the pages of his notebook, almost like the bible. I wondered how secretive Isaac's thoughts were within the unread confines of its pages.

He would be more careful than that to hide any intimate feelings.

It was funny, really, imagining Isaac careless enough to leave his room unlocked with his most constricted thoughts laying in the open.

But then the shower in the next room shut off. I filmed quickly through the pages one last time, grabbing the page that I hadn't read: the one about my death, and tore it out.

I folded the sheet and stuffed it in my pocket, shutting the notebook just before the bathroom door swished open to a half-naked Isaac, wide-eyed and embarrassed.

I didn't bother to avert my eyes, but I watched him a bit hesitantly as he just stood there, staring. "Is everything okay, Roan?"

I nodded, still feeling eerie about the words in the tablet. "Y-Yeah. I just came by to give you your new uniform." I nodded at the closet where the clean-pressed replica of my old uniform hung, waiting for the next respectable body to hold it.

"Thanks..." He deadpanned and turned back to the bathroom, letting the door swish closed behind him. "About earlier, Roan..."

I perked my ears up, listening carefully. "Yeah?"

"The head engineer... The one that was bothering Logan..." The door opened again and he came out fully-dressed and Isaac-like. "Did she strike you as odd?"

I lifted an eyebrow, leaning back in the desk chair and drumming my engagement ring on the desk. "Maybe... Define odd."

He shrugged, picking up his notebook and stowing it in his jacket. "She completely ignored the destroyed communications tower, almost like it was nothing."

I leaned up, resting my elbows on my knees and watching him straighten his clothes out. "You may have a point. But of course,"

"I'm Isaac. I know..." He smiled and turned to me, seeming so much more relaxed than earlier. He eagerly gave a salute. I stood and returned it, and he held out his right hand. "To Captain Chbosky."

I grinned and took his hand, shaking it firmly. "To Commander Vanderbilt."

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __
The Galley | 6:00pm
__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __

So. Much. Alien fruit.

The oldest Senator had taken his place at the podium at the head of the Galley and begun a speech at 5:17 and 37 seconds, according to Logan's watch.

When the officials had mentioned the word party, I hadn't expected a history lesson on the Hyden Generation or how great of a captain Captain Riggs wasn't.

Periodically, I felt Isaac's elbow jar me in the ribs to keep me awake before my face could fall into my plate of Space Fruit. I grinned. Could Roan may fall asleep during a senator's speech and drown in a bowl of Fruit Juice on his list?

Maybe it was creepy being friends with someone who thought constantly about my death. But I thought it was just out of sheer love and concern. The Senator finally motioned for me to stand up and join him at the podium. Murmurs filled the galley.

"Commander Roan Chbosky, by the name of General Glide Carpathia of the Pantheon Armada, I hereby commission you as Captain Roan Chbosky of the XX Demeter."

I half-expected some angelic chorus to sing my praises as I rose onto a cloud into the heavens. But what happened was much more logical, and much more appreciated.

No one made a move.

But then Isaac stood and began to clap, and then Logan, and I saw Shaun from the bar, and his bartenders all standing and clapping, and soon, the whole room was roaring with approval. Hopefully I hid it beneath my skin, but a raging blush filled my face as I accepted the Captain's Jacket and medallion. So maybe I was a god.

Because I felt damn near invincible.

Claudia the Galley 6:00 P.M.

As they announced the new captain, I stiffened. Roan? Then, slowly but surely, I began to clap. The room was roaring with approval. Roan would be a good captain, I could tell- better than the last one, anyway, I thought.

I left the ceremony early. I had never been one for crowds, or anything like a crowd, for that matter. I quickly left and headed down towards the base where we held the fighters. I always went down here to be alone and supposedly check up on my fighter.

I passed a couple of people but avoided their looks towards me. I jumped into my fighter and started checking all of the gears- memorization of things I already had memorized. I heard the sound of someone cursing and looked out the door. A mechanic was working on my fighter.

“What the heck are you doing?!” I asked, cursing as I jumped down. The mechanic looked up at me.

“Easy, it’s not like I’m doing anything to damage it. Just a routine check,” he added.

“Right. Well, I can do that.” It was a lie, but whatever. I didn’t like anyone else trying to mess with my fighter.

“No, you can’t, actually,” the mechanic said, shrugging. “Now, why don’t you go and do something useful around here instead of lazing around and watching me work.”

“I’m fine with watching you work,” I said stiffly. “Trayan, right?” I added as an after-thought.

“Of course, and you’re Claudia,” he added. Somehow the way he said it sounded like an insult.

“Yeah, so?” I asked.

“I’ve just heard about you,” he said, avoiding looking straight at me. “And I’ve heard that you don’t like crowds and that you’re not exactly all that friendly.”

I glared at him. “Okay, you’re a mechanic, I fly a fighter. So just shut up and do your job.”

“I won’t argue with that,” he said with a shrug, and continued working.

I sat down, crossing my arms. I would wait here and make sure he didn’t do anything to my fighter.

“Being loyal is one thing, dependency is another,” Trayan commented mildly.

“Shut up,” I muttered.

Ashton-Bar-6:00pm

"I have an update, sir," the AI said.

I lifted my head off the bar, my vision a little bleary from have a few too many shots. "What is it," I replied, feeling as if I wasn't entirely there.

"Something hit the ship, shattering the glass of the bridge."

I sobered up immediately, sitting straight up. I looked around the bar and then back at my computer. "Aren't those windows supposed to be able to hold up against speeding asteroids."

"Yes, tests on the glass shown that asteroids wouldn't break the glass."

"Then how?"

"There is only two theories to how this could've happened: sabotage and an advanced alien race with very strong weapons."

"Can you come up with the video of the security camera from inside there?"

"Sorry, sir, but I have do not have access to that system."

I stood up and walked out of the bar and out into the hallway. After quick look around, making sure it was empty, I walked to the nearest security camera and got under it where no one would see me on the other end.

I pulled a vent cover off the wall and crawled inside, looking inside ship's wiring. Pulling out a clip, I attached it to the the security camera wire, and began hacking in. Quickly, I pulled up the video files of the bridge and rewound it to before the moment the windows blew.

I watched as Captain Riggs collapsed to the ground in a fit of coughs, and two people I didn't know rush up to help him. Suddenly the glass blew on the window, sucking Commander Riggs out immediately. The two people who went to help grabbed onto whatever they could and hung on till the bridge shields closed. Everything in the video pointed to sabotage, but a few things didn't add up.

I rewound the video and watched as the glass blew in. I knew that things always wanted to go from high pressure to low pressure, and space was as low as you could go. So what caused the glass to blow in? I said to my self. I rewound the video, searching for clues, but came up empty handed until I came to the moment the glass blew.

I rewound and checked it again over and over to make sure I wasn't seeing things, and checked it again. If what I saw was true, then everyone on board Demeter was in trouble.

Rachell Burgess, Fighters Dock, 6:02pm,

I groaned and stepped into the dock. That had been the most mind-numbingly boring ceremony ever. I had clapped respectfully and slipped away quietly. Hopefully leaving the ceremony early wouldn't get me demoted.

"Claudia?" I asked, noting the girl hissing a threat to some poor mechanic who was working on her fighter.

She turned, startled. "Oh, hi Rachell," she muttered. "Boring enough ceremony."

I laughed and nodded. "Roan will be a great captain, and he's a good guy and all...but that ceremony-"

"Big crowd, sweaty bodies, and overly long speaches. Not worth the time." She finished for me.

I chuckled and nodded. "What'd the poor mechanic do to you to earn a threat?" I asked, grinning.

Claudia straightened up and the guard snickered. "I-he was..."

"Inspecting her fighter. You know, policies, my job," he grumbled.

Claudia glared at him and I couldn't supress another giggle. "Clauds, he's only doing his job. Give the poor guy a break."

She sighed, but obeyed. "We never did go out on that scouting mission, did we?" It had been completely forgotten after we learned Riggs had died--or been murdered as some assumed.

She shrugged. "I doubt it matters too much."

I agreed, but said nothing and approached my own fighter. Back to inspect that control panel. I really wanted to know who had scratched it up like that. I stared at the big white mark across its top. I frowned and rubbed at it furiously, but it wasn't a stain. Oh how I resented scratches...

I stepped back onto the main dock, where Claudia was glaring at the mechanic. I raised an eyebrow and leaned against the exterior of my wonderful fighter, now vandilized. "I am excrutiatingly bored," I whined.

The mechanic popped out from under Claudia's fighter. "Bored, eh?" He grinned. "You could go to my room and grab me a tool I forgot from it."

"Not a chance. You forgot it, you go get it," I hissed. I was suddenly in a very bad mood.

He pursed his lips and disapeared again. I rolled my eyes and let out a long breath. This was going to be a very long, dull evening.

Sarah Wellers, her room, 6:10pm

I rested my head on my pillow, already preparing myself for a nice long sleep. It was freakishly early, but I had nothing better to do. Work was an option, but I found it hard to focus on anything.

I could go back to the ceremony, but the crowds and mind-numbingly boring speaches had forced my leave. I noticed I hadn't been the only one to go early. One of the fighters and Rachell, the squadron leader had left before me and headed towards the fighters docks.

Not that it mattered or anything. I had no business there what so ever. I still had my beer bottle. It was sitting nicely on my nightstand, unopened. I just hadn't been able to bring myself to drink it.

Rigg's impossible mission and then his death had me shocked. Karma? A possibility.

I let my mind wander again. Back to why I despised men and alchohol. I decided immediately that I should go see that therapist....oh what was her name? She might be able to help me out of my 4 year long depressed slump. It would be nice to be able to talk to men again.

I smiled and agreed with myself. I would have to get ahold of her...tomorrow. I was tired and about to fall asleep already. I glanced at the clock. It was almost seven. Still much, much too early to fall asleep, but I was exhausted. Absolutely, completely drained.

I began to plan out tomorrow. First thing first, get ahold of that therapist. It might be a good idea to find out what her name was too... I smirked. That was sort of vital if I was to find her. I'd plan a session for later that day and head down to the bar. Perhaps I would make a few weak attempts at socialization. Either that or I could actually go back to the labs and continue my studies... I settled on the latter. Better to avoid prying eyes. Plus Hayden might be at the bar. Hayden was somebody I planned on avoiding for the rest of my life if I could help it.

I groaned and rolled over, burrying my head in my pillow and closing my eyes. With any luck I would smother myself in my sleep.

Suicide...Yet another option to escape this blasted ship. If, of course, the therapy didn't go smoothly. Or if I couldn't find her. I smiled into my pillow and let myself fall asleep. All good things came tomorrow.

Isaac Vanderbilt - The Galley, 6:10 PM

Isaac's paranoia had manufactured for him fifty different things that could go wrong at this party, and he wasn’t tempting death by eating – or drinking – anything that didn’t come from his private reserve of food. Although inclined to warn Roan not to eat anything either, Isaac let the idea go. Roan deserved his moment of glory, his party.

Isaac readied himself to spill everything into his notebook, should he ever find himself in the midst of panic. Roan flirted with one of the waitresses, or was it one of the pilots? Isaac always confused the pilots and the waitresses. The engagement ring still shone on Roan’s finger, and yet it deterred none of the girls.

What if one of the girls would try to kill Roan?

He ought to write that down, so he could forget about it, so he could enjoy the night. Isaac flipped open his notebook, pen in hand, but a page was missing. All that was left of the page wherein he listed Roan’s possible deaths was a jagged bit of paper stuck onto the notebook’s spine. Isaac bit his lower lip so hard it bled. Who…Who took that page?

If the murderer lacked ideas, then that page could give him ideas on how to kill Roan, and Isaac would be partly to blame. Isaac’s breath clung to his throat, where it refused to come out. Impossible. Could someone have snuck into his room and taken it? But no one knew the worry notebook’s true nature. No one but Elle and Roan.

Roan would never tell anyone, and Elle… Elle might tell…

Isaac jumped off his stool, startling Shaun. Shaun grunted. “Something wrong?”

He scanned the crowd, but there was no trace of the blond counselor. Of course not. There were so many blonds here Isaac wouldn’t be able to tell himself apart if he saw himself in the crowd. The room spun, dizzying colors of light flashing. Somewhere along the line the galley had become a dance floor.

Maybe the page fell off the notebook. Maybe it was in Isaac’s room, waiting to be discovered. Wherever it was, Isaac needed to find it before whoever wanted to kill Riggs decided to use it as a blueprint for Roan’s death.

Isaac elbowed his way through the humid crowd, ignoring Roan’s invitations for him to join Roan’s table, filled with women. Several bodies crashed into him, sending Isaac staggering to the left or the right, depending on the general direction of the dancer’s bodies.

Roan frowned and mouthed something at Isaac. Or maybe Roan didn’t mouth it, but the roaring music drowned everything out in Isaac’s ears. Isaac wouldn’t be surprised if the doctor declared him partially deaf tomorrow. That accident took a toll on him.

Isaac stumbled out of the mass of sweaty bodies, gulping in cool, cool air. He could distinctly hear someone calling for him from behind, and there were a few whispers, a handful of words floating in the air.

“Is he jealous of Chbosky’s promotion?”

“Don’t think so. He’s Chbosky’s friend, ain’t he?”

“You can’t ever tell with the quiet ones – looks mighty excited to leave the party to me.”

The rumors, the rumors were blooming. But better a destroyed reputation than a dead friend. Isaac scrambled out the galley and towards his room, running into Hayden along the way. Hayden chuckled as Isaac passed by, shaking his head.

“Dude I thought you were a chick.”

Isaac saved his breath. No time to retort, no time to grace Hayden with a punch. Just head to the room, where he’d find that notebook page and realize that yes, he worried too much and that no, nobody took the blueprints for Roan’s death.

Isaac fumbled with his keys outside his room. His numb hands helped naught in searching for the right keys to the five locks he’d installed on the room. Finally he managed to unlock everything, managed to pass through the fingerprint scan and into his room.

He tore at everything on his desk, opening each and every book one by one, flipping through its pages. After the books came the notebooks, then the floor, then the bed, and finally the closet. Clothes flew through the air as Isaac threw everything aside to find that page. Why did he even write it down anyway? Because Elle asked him to. Elle wanted Isaac to write everything down, so Isaac wouldn’t keep everything on his mind.

Isaac sank to the floor inside his closet. His nails dug into the soft gray carpet and his glassy eyes stared into the opposite wall. He’d lost the page. He’d as good as murdered Roan. His gaze drifted to the bottles of vodka beside him on the closet floor.

How long since he’d tasted the cold embrace of strong alcohol? Too long.

Isaac Vanderbilt – 6:43 PM, Isaac’s Room

The door creaked as it was pushed open by someone not Isaac. Isaac only lifted his bottle to toast the newcomer before taking another swig. The bottle was almost empty. No worries. There were more by his side.

“To Captain Chbosky,” Isaac gloated, his normally silky tenor sounding unstable and raspy. Yes, to Captain Chbosky, who Isaac had just killed with his utter carelessness.

“Isaac? That you?”

Oh speak of the devil. It was Chbosky. Isaac tried to sit up straight, but his body weighed him down too much. So he continued to sit hunched in the corner of his closet.

“What’s wrong? You ran out of the party like the devil was after you.”

Ha. The devil would be Isaac himself. Killing his own best friend…what a loyal subordinate. “Nothing’s wrong!” Isaac called out, hiccupping as he did so.

“Are you…drunk?”

“None of your business.” It would be better if Roan didn’t know about Isaac’s folly. Isaac could fix this by himself. He’d find a way to. With a sigh Isaac brought the bottle to his lips again.
“Isaac, I won’t lie. You sound horrible.”

“It’s a party. You’ll have your fun and I’ll have mine.” Isaac snickered to himself. Oh yes, what fun. Running around losing a list of ways to kill Roan…Yes, yes. So much fun. When Roan died tonight, it would be all Isaac’s fault.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” Isaac couldn’t see Roan from inside the closet, but he could imagine the commander – oops, the captain – shaking his head. “I’ll be at he party. Don’t hesitate to call if you need me, all right?”

And Roan left the room empty, save the devil, his sins and a dozen bottles of vodka.

Roan Chbosky | Isaac's Room | 6:49pm

The door slid open, showing off the leftovers of Hurricane Isaac. I looked around, shuffling through the discarded pieces of clothing and paper, looking for anything that resembled Isaac. But, once again, he was nowhere.

"To C-Ca-Captain Ch-bbbbb-awsk-..."

"Isaac? Is that you?"

I scanned the room again, stopping at the wall that opened normally to a closet. "You ran out of the party like the devil was after you..."

A rumble came from in the closet, along with the clanking of glass bottles. "N-Nuffinks rawng-uh-cah!" His squeaky voice echoed in the small room and I tried to pull the closet door open to see him.

“Are you…drunk?”

“Nunnuyuhbiznessssss.” I arched an eyebrow and pressed an ear against the doorframe.

"What?"

"Nunnuyuhbiznessssss...!Hi-cah!" He said something else, but it rumbled on into the floor, lost forever deep in space.

“Isaac, I won’t lie. You sound horrible.”

“Issa partyy... You’ll haff your fun and I’ll haff mineee.” Isaac snickered inside the closet and I bit down on my lip, beginning to worry more and more.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” I finally found myself too worried and too friendless to leave him alone. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a laser-knife, slicing through the electronic locks on the closet door. Isaac shielded his eyes as the light hit his face, but I closed the door as soon as I crouched in low enough to enter.

And there he sat, three bottles of Andromeda Hawk Vodka drained around him. I stayed silent, watching his silhouette in the dark as I sat down across from him. "Something's on your mind," I finally said, staring at the vague outline of what had to be a dozen more bottles.

"Howw... Howw doyoustay... Stay so calm...allthetime?" His head rolled across his shoulders, letting a line of light fall on his eyes which were tear-streaked.

"I... I don't know, Isaac." I looked down at the closet floor, feeling Isaac's feet nudging into my calves. "I just worry about what I have to and..." I let my eyes trail off towards the bottles. "Forget the rest."

Isaac gave off a manic giggle which stopped immediately after he hit his head on the wall behind him.

What the hell...

I reached down, popping the cap off of one of the bottles before taking a long swig. "To Commander Vanderbilt..."

Isaac mumbled something, probably "here, here" or something else drunken, but as time rolled on, it became harder and harder to tell who said what, and what came to whom, and where either of us were.

And when five bottles were drained on the floor, there was just silence. But it was a wiser silence that neither of us could've owned up to. It was mystical, magical...

"I...thought I lossssst you today..." Isaac seemed sleepy, falling in on himself under the pressure of the toxin.

"You saffffed muh life..." I closed my eyes, listening to my throbbing heartbeat in my ears.

"Nahhh... I killt you..."

I opened my eyes, drowsily looking down at him. "Waddayamean?"

"The...the page... In mah notemook..." He sneezed, letting out a soft giggle again.

"The one I haff?"

And there was that wise silence again.

The time when it all sank in.

But then, Isaac spoke the truth into the darkness.

"You sunuvabitch..."

Isaac Vanderbilt - 7:29 PM, Isaac's Room

An awkward silence hung in the air before Isaac collapsed into a fit of relieved giggles. Roan sat frozen, wide-eyed and somewhat baffled by his friend’s sudden laughter.

Ah Roan. He was right. Isaac did worry too much.

“Ishack, you ’kay?” Roan’s hand blindly reached out to touch Isaac in what Isaac supposed was to be a gesture of worry.

“You took da page?” Isaac choked on a few tears and rested his head against the wall, wheezing out a few final laughs. Yes, it was Roan, and not some crazy murderer who took the page. Victory was sweet…wait. Was this even a victory? And if Roan took it, why didn’t he ask?

Roan had also started laughing, although Isaac doubted Roan actually understood what Isaac was laughing about.

“You shtole it?” Isaac asked, no longer laughing. How could Roan steal it without Isaac’s permission? Roan should have known better. “I woulda giffen it to yoush if you’d asked for it.”

Roan stopped laughing, confused all of a sudden. “Whaa?”

“You shtole it,” Isaac yawned. His eyelids were getting heavy, heavier and heavier and heavier. The closet’s corner provided all the comfort he needed, wanted. Isaac drew his knees to his chest, , trying desperately to glare at Roan. Roan seemed as confused as ever.

“I’m shorry.”

“No you’re not…” Isaac yawned again and used the wall as a support as he stood up. At first he stood straight-backed and proud, like the commander he currently was, but then the alcohol took effect and he wobbled, flailed and finally lost his balance. He fell on top of Roan in the cramped closet. There was a moment of silence as both men tried, in their inebriated state, to make sense of what was going on.

It clicked in their brains at the same time. Isaac shoved Roan away and scrambled to get up, but only managed to get himself more tangled in the mess of clothes and limbs. Again and again he tried to get away, only to fail each time he tried to get up. Roan’s foot or arm always seemed to be in the way. Finally Isaac managed to crawl away from the closet, squeezing through the crack in the door.

The light assaulted him as soon as he slipped out of the closet and Isaac yelped, pressing his back to the closet door and shielding his eyes from the light. He turned away from it and caught his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were blue, blue like the walls around him, and his blond hair was disheveled. His clothes were askew, his cravat wet and droopy.

“Ishack, I’m shorry! Why do you have plansh lie theesh anway?”

The world tipped for a moment and Isaac clung to the closet’s door for support. But nothing seemed to move, so Isaac deemed it safe to let go and slowly, slowly dragged himself to his bed. It took a tremendous amount of effort to pull himself onto it, to clamber into a comfortable position and allow sleep to take him away.

Isaac Vanderbilt - Isaac's Room, 1:31 AM

Isaac’s head pounded when his consciousness returned. From the closet emanated a soft snoring. Isaac wasn’t sure what it was, but he didn’t feel particularly inclined to find out at the moment. His head felt empty, yet sore at the same time.

A footstep broke through the snoring. Isaac cracked open an eye and saw a silhouette making its way towards the closet. The closet…was there anything important there? Isaac forced himself to think, but thinking too hard hurt his head and he winced.

The figure paused when Isaac tensed, as if expecting Isaac to leap up. Isaac did nothing. Better to let the figure steal whatever he wanted instead of getting hurt.

There was a soft sigh of relief when Isaac didn’t get up. The silhouette proceeded towards the closet, making sure to keep his steps quiet. Poor intruder. He must not know how light of a sleeper Isaac was.

What was in the closet that the thief wanted so bad? As far as Isaac knew, there were only his clothes in there. Clothes…a stash of vodka…and, and something else. The snoring was – Roan. Isaac shot up, slamming his hand onto an emergency button beside his bed. It was connected to the fighter’s rooms, and they ought to come running. The hallways remained quiet but the fighter’s rooms were likely alive with a red alert. Hopefully those morons weren't still partying their lives out.

The figure cocked his gun. Crap crap crap crap why did Isaac’s body feel so sluggish now of all times? If Roan was murdered now it would really be Isaac’s fault and Isaac wouldn’t be able to live with that guilt and oh God - Isaac launched himself through the air and tackled the intruder to the ground. Between the darkness and his headache Isaac couldn’t tell who it was, but he could tell he’d been stabbed when a sharp pain bit into his stomach. Isaac rolled away from the intruder, clutching his abdomen, feeling warm blood seep onto his hand.

The intruder gathered his gun from the ground and fled, away into the darkness of the corridor. Isaac gasped for air as Roan, in the closet, continued to snore, snorting in his dreams.

Isaac looked at his bleeding hands. This much blood…could be fatal. He dragged himself to a wall, keeping one hand pressed on the wound to minimize blood loss. Once he was near a wall, he slumped onto it, closed his eyes and listened to his own labored breathing mixed with the captain’s snorts.

In this darkness no one would know Isaac was bleeding. He drew out his notepad and wrote two words. Roan, should he ever wake up, wouldn’t be able to resist reading the open notebook.

Bleeding…Help me.

Lisa Flores | The Bar | 1600 Hours

Lisa was sitting alone. No surprise there. Lisa always seemed to be alone, her only company those pesky voices in her head and characters from the latest book she was reading. Her mother was always so “worried” about her. Lisa's mother had always said she should be more outgoing...like her sisters. Lisa had patiently tried to explain to her mother that she could be outgoing if she wanted to, but that she was a recluse by choice. Her mother laughed loudly at that.

Lisa could remember her mother's anti-climatic parting words. Lisa had no idea how long she would be aboard the [i[The Demeter[/i] and yet, all her mother could think to say to her was:

"Just go to the bar and hang out," she had said. "You might make an important connection."

Lisa had waved her off dismissively. She didn't need any "important connections", but she couldn't help feel that a friend wouldn't hurt. Just one. Lisa had been so obsessed with graduating with honors for the past three years, she hadn't bothered to make any friends. Her roommate had given up on her within six months, deeming her socially constipated, a lost case.

Lisa had always reasoned that college wasn't for making friends. College was for learning. If she wanted to make friends, then there were other venues for that. She sighed, taking the olive out of her dirty martini and plopping it in her mouth. She waved the barmaid over.

She beamed down at Lisa. She had to be at least three inches taller than her. "What can I do for you?" she asked.

Lisa pushed the martini towards her and gave her an uncertain smile. "Can I get a cranberry juice?"

"Sure thing," she said, quickly taking her untouched martini. “Anything else I can get for you?”

A good book, Lisa thought to herself. “No.”

It was announced that there was a new captain...Roan-something. Lisa couldn't quite make out the last name over the chatter around her.

“What happened to the old captain?” Lisa muttered to herself.

“He's dead.”

Lisa looked up to see the same barmaid, cranberry juice in hand, looking rather solemn. Lisa furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Dead?”

The girl took a seat next across from her. “You mean you don't know what happened this afternoon?”

Lisa mutely shook her head.

“I thought everyone knew at this point...” She gave Lisa a smile. “I'm Lizzie.”

“Lisa,” she muttered.

Lizzie proceeded to tell the story, quickly. She did have work to get back to after all.

“...So that's the story,” Lizzie finished. “And I can see that my boss just noticed how long I've been talking to you. I'll see you around.”
Lizzie quickly got up, giving a quick wave behind her. Lisa decided that maybe she should be a bit more social when she wasn't working. Just a little mingling. It wasn't like she was promising to be anyone's best friend....