“Damn it all, did you see what happened?” Caleb asked angrily at the young Nomad man who was tapping a light on his head to illuminate the area.
“Yea, it looked like a spliced power relay failure.” The man sighed, floating up off the deck, “Someone installed a diverter not rated for the pass through. I only noticed at the last minute. Thanks for the save.”
As the fire roared in front of them, they both grabbed a micro-extinguisher from their belts and doused the flames in a chemical foam. After a few moments, the fire died. Crouching down and looking into the crawlspace, Caleb's geist advised him that power was dead to the circuit, shut off from the bridge.
“Alright, looks like we’re safe to work. Get in there and start cutting out the splice and components. I will go grab a properly rated piece to install.”
Grabbing a cutting tool from a nearby, now floating, tool chest, the Nomad gently kicked off the wall and into the crawl space, “Aye aye, Abuelito!”
“Call me Abuelito again and I am leaving you in there.” Caleb yelled as he floated down the hallway.
The HNS adh-Dhi’b had now been underway for five days, and those days were filled with the engineering teams chasing power glitches, technical faults, electrical fires, and shearing of hull plates. None of them have had much sleep, even with the rotating shifts. There simply were not enough engineers on the ship, so they were all working to try and make sure the vessel made it to Concilium Prima. Injuries were common with lack of sleep and the work with heavy equipment and cutting tools. This further reduced the number of available engineers, and many had bandages on their extremities.
After floating for a few minutes passed groups grumbling about the darkness and lack of gravity, Caleb was greeted with a lit section of the ship, and as he crossed the threshold, he fell down to the deck as the artificial gravity grabbed his body. Groaning and standing up, he brushed off his jump suit and continued on his way through the ship, looking for the storage room for power diverters. One of the few blessings the ship had was that they had salvaged everything around them when they were dead in the water, hoarding components like some fantastical dragon. Pieces and parts were piled all over the ship. If the engineers needed something, they simply had to find the right room with the right pile. His geist scrolled his augmented reality in front him, listing and pointing out parts that might help with the issue he had. Finally he saw a label that could help “Zhouying Part #325 1MW Rated”. It was a Yu Jing part, but it could work.
“Caleb, I got you something.” The voice of Fahim announced the presence of the large Khawarij behind him.
Turning, Caleb saw the man holding a sandwich and a water bottle. Suddenly the engineer's stomach growled as he was reminded it had been a number of hours since he last ate. He quickly made his way over to the large man and took the sandwich with a quick thanks and began wolfing it down.
Handing the engineer the bottle of water, Fahim walked past him into the room and lifted the large heavy part with ease, “Was this the piece you were getting? Let me help. Eat that while we walk.”
Caleb nodded, and motioned to follow him, leading the way out of the room. Fahim followed closely, carrying the diverter under his arm. They walked silently for a few moments while he finished the sandwich and some of the water. Sighing with relief, he recognized his Nomad partner had not eaten recently either and dug through some of the boxes and crates in the hallway for a couple of protein bar rations. Stuffing them in his pockets and zipping them up, he walked with the khawarij.
“How's Palavi holding up?” Caleb asked, breaking the silence.
“Probably similarly to you, my friend. She’s been busy taking care of electrocutions, and burns. We are all doing what we can to help, but alas, I am no doctor or engineer.” the large man said with a sigh.
“No, but you make an excellent forklift it seems.”
Fahim gave a smile and chuckled.
The two reached the dark section of the ship and pushed off into the corridor and began floating down the darkness. After a couple turns, they floated up to the young nomad, who was suspended in the hallway playing with a pack of peanuts and flicking them into his mouth. Caleb had a confused look on his face.
“Where did you get those?”
“The peanuts? I always have food on me. It’s not the first time I had to keep a ship together. You never want to leave food behind. That’s like…Spacer 101, Abuelito. Oh is that the diverter?
Caleb shook his head sighing, “Yes, that's the diverter, snack breaks over, get it installed kid.”
“Si! Hey el forzudo, move that thing over here.”
The Nomad pulled himself down to the floor panel motioning to Fahim, and helped guide the power diverter into place. Flipping out a couple tools, he began splicing wires into place and securing the piece to the ship. After about thirty minutes he pulled himself out, whipping his forehead, and began reviewing a power read out on a small device.
“Okay….it looks stable. I think we’re good to go.”
Caleb pinged the bridge with the power readings, “Bridge, it looks like this section is good to repower.”
After a few moments the lights came back to life, and the three men settled down onto the floor, followed by the clatter of loose tools. The group got the floor panel replaced and secured, gathering the collection of tools around the area. Leaving the broken power diverter in the corridor for later, Fahim slung one of the tool boxes over his shoulder and joined the two engineers on their walk back to the machining spaces. The machinists area of the ship had grown haphazardly as its use exploded during the repair of the ship. Work benches, and large hydraulic machines spilled out into the adjacent rooms as a multitude of sweat-slicked men and women worked tirelessly machining replacement parts from a large number of different manufacturers and shaping hull plating to act as replacements.
No sooner had they set their tools down on racks, than Calebs comlog pinged a new task for him. One of the water treatment facilities was not working properly and needed help. Sighing, he motioned for his Nomad compatriot to get his equipment. Shaking Fahims hand and thanking him for the assistance, the two headed out, the large Khawarij standing awkwardly in the doorway. After a moment he decided to check in on his commander, and headed for the hangar. It was not easy navigating the crowded halls of the ship, and there were several times he had to help move some crates and equipment, but after a half hour he finally made it to his units berthing in the ship.
The hangar was a mess of people, materials, and sickbeds. Most of the heavily injured crew who were incapacitated were here, under care, to make space in the clinic for less severe injuries that could be turned around. Khadim and Palavi mostly managed the space, working their way up and down the lines of cots. The other half of the hangar was where the Roc was stored, its large turbine tipped wings folded back and the transport craft lashed down. Sitting on the edge of the opened door and speaking with Khepri, the small and lithe Namurr Operative, was Ra’id Maih Aafah, Task Force 27’s commander. Dressed in green and khaki fatigues, the long haired, dark woman sat on the edge of the Roc, leaning against the frame.
As Fahim approached, Khepri turned to him, her feline pupiled eyes studying him quickly before she greeted him, “Fahim, you have been out for a while. Get all your errands finished?”
“I am simply wandering around, helping where I can. Unlike some, I cannot simply lay around all day.” Fahim smiled as he crossed his arms over his chest, looking down on the woman as he stretched to his full nearly, seven foot height.
The small Namurr Operative gave a cheshire grin, “Come now, you cannot work too hard. Cat naps keep you refreshed, and healthy!”
Ignoring the woman, Fahim turned to Maih, “The engineers are getting worn out, Caleb is probably going to need at least a week off once we make port.”
Maih nodded, “Agreed, Khadim mentioned the increased cases of engineering injuries coming through. Head up a team to provide support where you can, manual labor or running food. Those types of things. We can’t do much but we have hands and feet.”
“Aye, Ra’id. I can lead that.” Fahim playfully pushed Khepri who was leaning against him off, and headed towards a large group of the unit working on training.
Maih watched him leave as Khepri hopped up onto the deck of the Roc and took a seat, hanging her feet off and humming a tune.
“So you were trying to convince me to get you issued a machine gun?” Maih asked, continuing their previous conversation.
“Yes.” Khepri was examining her painted nails, picking at the chipping.
“Is that your whole argument?”
“Argument? I figured it was in all of our best interest.”
“The best I can do is an AS Fateh.”
“I already have that in the armory!” The Namurr bemoaned, pouting.
“By Allah, you are the most unprofessional, professional I have ever known. Write a letter to High Command, see if they listen to you.” Maih dropped down from her seat, straightening her fatigues. “I need to go check in on the rest of the unit, good luck.
Khepri flopped back with a thud and released a dramatic groan.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The space around the planet was littered with the remains of orbital defenses, and spacecraft of varying nations, both military and civilian. The Combined Army vessels prowled around the planet and among the Human fleets like predators, the malevolent design of their hulls standing at odds to the less advanced Human Sphere ships. The Haqqislamite cruiser glided through space towards the planet's rings, until a smaller vessel approached and opened communications.
“HNS adh-Dhi’b this is Pilot Ship 452, you are scheduled for Port 4, Repair Dock 23, can you confirm?”
The communications officer replied quickly, “Yes, HNS adh-Dhi’b can confirm, passing code.”
“Confirmed, please pass control of the helm to us, and we will guide you in.”
After a few quick swipes on her control panel, the woman at the helm nodded to navigation, “Pilot Ship 452, you now have control.”
The crew sat back, watching the screens as the ship was pulled along by the pilot. As they got closer to the docks, they were able to see more and more damaged and destroyed vessels. Ships damaged to the point of being less than scrap, and others with sections blown away. Still others had chemical and electrical fires burning, as all the nations of the Sphere were represented in their destruction. After an hour they finally arrived at their dock, the ship slowly pulled into a cradle alongside the space station. Large mechanical arms extended out to either side of the ship as the magnetic clamps found purchase on the hull, and with a loud thunk, activated. The ship now securely fastened to the facility. Cables, and hoses were flown out and attached via remotes, and quickly systems started stabilizing, and water was flushed through the plumbing of the ship. The bridge crew gave an audible sigh as they finally made it to a port and were no longer responsible for the ship trying to kill itself. Throughout the vessel, engineers collapsed, their services finally coming to an end.
Fayaz sat back and breathed out slowly before addressing the bridge, “We made it, well done. Engineering, I want a report on system integrities, and a report on breakages. Weapons, I need a report on ammo and weapon loss, Quantronics, I need a report on firewall breakthroughs, and systems diagnostics for malware and worms. 24 hours after docking, all ship personnel are to be given leave for 2 months as per Naval Command. Get your work done before then.”
Standing up, Fayaz left the bridge for his room. Now that the ship was linked with the dock, he had a short window to have a shower and clean his uniform. Representatives of Naval Command will be coming to inspect the ship personally, which was an oddity, but one he needed to prepare for. It only took him a minute to reach his personal room, strewn with salvage and medical equipment. He readily gave it over to the medical officers for secure storage. It had been a week since he had last taken a shower he realized as he peeled his sweaty and dirty clothes off. As the hot water hit him, the dirt, grime, and some of the stress began washing away. He gave himself a few minutes to simply stand there, letting the water wash over him, the heat soothing his tensed muscles.
His shower after that was quick, and he managed to find a clean uniform in his drawers, purple pants with gold trim, and a black leather belt. He wore a white blouse tucked in as he adorned his purple coat with gold epaulets. He worked to shine his leather boots as best he could, before strapping his family's saber to his belt, last was a modern officers cap, white topped. Looking in the mirror, his geist was quick to advise him of the detrimental effects of a poor diet and lack of sleep. His frame was thinner, his eyes darkened and recessed by the loss of rest. Making some final details on the uniform, he left his quarters making his way to the station access hatch. The visible weariness of the crew hit him even harder after seeing the transformation the shower made on him, but they still straightened and saluted with smiles. ‘Aqid Fayaz Aafah’s leadership brought them home, and the respect they had for their Captain was huge.
“‘Aqid Aafah, you acquitted yourself well in returning the ship and your crew home. Well done, sir.”
Another captain nodded and continued, “Indeed, well done getting home. We have received a preliminary report of events sent via your geist on what had happened, along with system generated ship logs. The department viewed it as quite the drama, and seeing the ship in berth now, it seems much less like fiction. Allah only knows how you survived.”
The commodore motioned for Fayaz to lead the way, “You will be recommended for a medal of merit, exactly which one is still being decided, but the ship will receive a battle star and the crew cited. This ship review is primarily to take account of what the damage is and a preliminary estimate time to completion.”
Fayaz nodded and began leading them towards the central corridor of the ship, “Shukran, sir. I am sure the report did read very much as fiction, but Allah protected us. The crew of the ship are to be commended for our safe arrival to Concilium.”
They walked the length of the vessel for the next several hours, watching as wounded were transferred off the ship, and supplies moved to the hangar for remote carriers to take it all away. Shipyard workers were quickly increasing in number as more hands came to help clean out the spacecraft, and ready it for repairs. Riding a small remote craft around the outside of the ship, Fayaz finally saw the outside of the HNS adh-Dhi’b, and it’s broken patchworked hull. Yellow plates from Yu Jing vessels, welded over Blue Panoceanian tesium armor. One of the three turrets was a mangled ball of half melted metal, while another was completely gone. The great hole in the hull of the ship from the Exrah craft, interior corridors picked out by metal patches to make them air tight. Broken HRMC turrets, and mangled missile tubes, cracked armor plates, and scavenged thrusters sticking out from slap shod welding jobs. The ship really did not look like it should have made it home, and Fayaz had to catch himself on a railing as he realized how close the ship was to its demise and the demise of the crew.
“‘Aqid Aafah, are you alright?” one of the captains asked.
“Aye, just tired.” He responded, straightening up and taking a deep breath in and out.
“I can only imagine. Very well, let’s get back into the station, and let you go get some rest. Allah only knows, you deserve it.”
After seeing the inspection crew out of the ship, Fayaz walked the vessel again with his own thoughts. Much of the crew was working in cleaning their sections and packing and he tried not to disturb them, but his tall stature and bright colors invariably attracted their attention. The foreign members of the crew were thankful to his efforts, and he had several invitations to return to their nations to be celebrated. He already had multiple formal invitations from those nations waiting in his inbox though so was able to smile his way through the conversations. His feet finally carried him to the hangar and barracks where his sister was directing her unit in their packing and cleaning.
“Maih, I hope you are finally able to get some rest.” He called out with a smile.
Looking over to her brother, he saw her eyes scanning him, “Your smile does not reach your tired eyes, Akhy.”
“I must look rather worn then.”
Reaching up, Maih knocked his hat off and ruffled his hair, a rather strange act due to her usual professionalism, her smile was wide and genuine, “You got us home. You are alive, we are alive. You look like a hero.”
Fayaz scoffed, pushing Maih back as he picked up his hat and fixed his hair, “Maybe after a few days of sleep I will feel like a hero.”
“I got in touch with Mom. Apparently Asli is graduating soon and will be joining father in his work at Rafael Pharmacology. They wanted to know if we would be able to join them in Medina-”, Maih was cut off as a man dressed in a white gallabeyya, a traditional Bourak robe, was escorted over to them by a member of the crew.
The ensign saluted, “‘Aqid, this is a representative of Waqf al-Badawi.”
The man smiled and offered his hand, “Director actually. As-salamu alaykum! It is good to meet you.”
Taking the man's hand and shaking it, “Wa-Alaikum-Salaam. How can I help you?”
“The Hachib has approved the charter of Waqf al-Badawi, and we are gathering personnel and resources to begin humanitarian efforts around Bhai. Our resources are still short though and we were wondering if we might find volunteers among your crew.”
Fayaz looked at Maih, and his sister shrugged, giving a slight grin back, “No rest for heroes, Ahky? I will give my unit a week to rest and prepare. Director, you have Task Force 27’s MSMC, and some muscle.”
Giving a smile that reached his tired eyes, Fayaz responded, “Our Roc and medical facilities are happily available. Give the ship a couple of weeks, I will ping a request to the crew.”
It only took a few minutes after the geist sent out the volunteer request for the majority of the crew to return their replies, as expected, everyone was willing and able. The HNS adh-Dhi’b was a Haqqislamite vessel after all, and the crew lived up to the nation's ideals. Help humanity wherever it may be hurting, and on the shattered grounds of Concilium Prima, they all saw it hurting.
