Ship's Interface Ch. 018

The boatswain's whistle sounded on the public address system throughout the Nestia's decks to alert the passengers and crew of an imminent message. "Attention everyone," Inta's pleasant voice echoed throughout. "We will be arriving in the Khosrow system in one hour. All teams have been requested to confirm their readiness for action. Thank you," she signed off.

The ship suddenly became a hive of activity. Time-passing games were abandoned, cups of coffee were forgotten, and napping team members were roused to help begin final preparations.

On deck seven, in the Linyphiidae team leader's private room, Emily slowly stirred from a wonderful dream of being tied down and used roughly, smothered by a large pair of warm breasts. She woke to find her reality wasn't too different; she lay in a hammock of fine silk, pulled tight against the woman she had unexpectedly fallen in love with. Her head rested on one gray-skinned breast while the other pressed down from above, comfortably snug, nestled deep in warm cleavage. She felt safe and protected in Rhenna's embrace; she held Emily possessively with her humanoid arms and several arachnid legs.

Rhenna reached down and brushed the hair from Emily's face. "Time to wake up, darling. That was the announcement that we'll be arriving at Khosrow shortly," Rhenna said lovingly.

"I don't think I want to," Emily said sleepily. " staying right here sounds much more appealing." Emily's hands wandered across Rhenna's skin, sliding back and forth across the boundary between soft gray skin and smooth ebony exoskeleton. She marveled at the sensations beneath her fingers and delighted at the shivers she elicited from Rhenna when she caressed the imperceptively fine hairs covering her chitinous half.

After waking from their Broodmark consummation in the med bay and finishing their preparations with Inta's help, the wonderful silver girl escorted them back to Rhenna's quarters. After a quick kiss for each of them, Inta left them to their own devices, instructing them to let her know if they should need anything.

They spent several hours exploring each other's bodies and many variety of ways to bring each other pleasure. Exhausted for a second time, they fell asleep blissfully in each other's arms.

Emily gave Rhenna a playful pout. "You're right, I suppose," she said, maneuvering herself out of the hammock and onto her feet. "I'm going to need to head back to my quarters, put myself together and go check in with Devens."

Rhenna hopped out of the hammock behind her. "I'll need to check in with my team as well. There won't be much to do until we have a better understanding of the situation on the ground and the team leaders come up with a game plan, but we need to be ready, none the less," she said as she pulled a fresh tunic on and began brushing out the tangled evidence of 'just fucked' hair.

It only took Emily a few moments to dress; then she stretched up to kiss Rhenna, who leaned down to meet her halfway.

"I love you," Emily said, her eyes full of emotion.

"Love you too, Darling," Rhenna replied, her eyes moistening at a sudden rush of joy and contentment washed over her. Emily turned back once in the open doorway, blew Rhenna a kiss, and then practically skipped down the corridor toward the lifts. Rhenna watched her go and felt the slight ache of watching a part of her leave, however briefly.

****

"Decelerating to sub-luminal speed now," June called aloud. The full Nestia crew was on the bridge as they entered Khosrow space; June and Will were in their usual spots at navigation and tactical, Ben sat at his preferred station in the back, Thea next to him; Be'tule was the Grove's representative on the Bridge today, his large frame occupying most of the bench built with the Toparian physique in mind. He leaned into Artona with an arm around her as she took up the remaining space on the bench. Diana sat at a darkened station at the back on the opposite side of the room from Ben and Thea, Inta at her side. She idly fidgeted with her cane in her left hand while Inta sat on her right, holding her hand.

They received a hail as they cruised at half-luminal speed into the system. The image of a tall, slender woman in a sharp black and silver uniform appeared on the screen. She wore a black beret on her hairless head and a welcoming smile on her blue face. "Greetings, Nestia. This is Captain Lethri Pherlune of the Cantroni frigate Vespera. We were appraised of your imminent arrival and were instructed to greet you when you got here."

"Hello, I am Captain June Harding. Thank you for your welcome," June responded. "You're a ways out from Cantroni space, aren't you Captain?"

"Aye, we are," Pherlune answered. "We were on a scouting mission in a nearby system when the tragedy struck. The AAN, fearing pirates and others who would exploit the tragedy, asked for security services when they issued their general request for aid. We were the only naval ship nearby, so we were sent to patrol Khosrow space."

"Where's Khosrow's navy? Why aren't they providing security?" Will asked, confused.

"Khosrow has no navy," said a deep, resonating voice just off-screen. Captain Pherlune looked to her right and waved the unseen person over into the field of view.

Lumbering into view was an enormous man, all rippling muscles, covered in thick, rough hair. He towered over the Cantroni, at least eight feet tall and as wide as two Urarcs, side by side. The hair on his head was braided into one thick rope running down his back, and his thick beard was braided into two smaller but similarly braided strands.

Two foot-long ivory tusks poked out from his beard, the blunt ends capped in ornately filigreed steel. Two piercing blue eyes, full of intelligence, stared out over a long, thick nose hanging loosely over his mouth, hidden under a thick beard. He wore a light vest covered in pockets, leaving his broad shoulders and massive arms bare. A heavy steel prosthesis with three iron fingers and a thumb replaced his left forearm, which must have been lost in some industrial accident.

"This is Jynthal Quoros, the second in command on the Netherlands," Captain Pherlune said, introducing the man dwarfing her. "He came out on a shuttle to help guide you."

"You may call me Jyn," he said in a slow rumbling tone. "Currently, there's no traffic control for approaching craft; it would be easier to guide you if I came aboard, but, if you wish, you can follow my shuttle down to the planet."

"The hangar bay is a little tight right now, but I think we can manage," Inta told the crew.

"Then it's settled," June said definitively. "Come on over, and someone will escort you to the bridge. Thank you, Captain Pherlune, for your help."

"I wish there was more that we could do," Pherlune replied, "but we're a light frigate with a small crew; there isn't much we can do for the people down there other than what we're doing now."

"And we thank you for that," June offered appreciatively. "The last thing the people of Khosrow need to deal with is raiders on top of everything else."

Pherlune nodded in acknowledgment. "If you find that there is something that we can help with, please do not hesitate to send word. We will do whatever we can to help. Good luck." The captain gave a small wave and then signaled to her comms officer to close the channel. The screen on the Nestia bridge reverted to the image of the smaller ship a short distance away.

A few minutes later, a shuttle disengaged from an airlock on the frigate's port side and slowly wheeled away, heading for the Nestia.

Standing at the far end of the last open space of the hangar, Inta raised the atmospheric force barrier and then opened the hangar doors as Jyn's shuttle lined up on approach. Over the comms, Inta called out to the approaching shuttle. "Please bring the shuttle within one hundred meters, hold your position and shut down your engines. I'll bring you in from there," Inta directed.

"Understood, Nesta," Jyn rumbled in reply.

As soon as the shuttle powered down its engines, Inta engaged the tractor beam, pulling the shuttle in and depositing it softly on the deck. While the hangar doors were melting closed, the small two-seat shuttle door hissed as it opened. Their guest, an enormous man, practically a wall of muscle, pried himself out through the door. Once he stood upright, he bent backward, stretching out.

Welcome to the Nestia," Inta said cheerfully, craning her neck to look up to him. "My name is Inta."

"Jyn," he grunted, monosyllabic. Inta decided he wasn't much of a talker and that his talents lay elsewhere. Determined to have a conversation, she persisted.

"If you'll follow me," Inta said, leading him to the lift. "I haven't met anyone like you before," Inta continued, "if you don't mind me asking, what species are you?"

Though a man of few words, the corner of his eyes crinkled with the beginnings of a smile at his host's insistence. "Mammuthus. My people come from Tarabolsk; I left when I was very young."

Inta's smile was infectious as he began opening up to her. "Left home to see the wide galaxy?" she asked as they stepped into the lift. There was barely enough room for them, Jyn's massive form taking up most of the space. Inta couldn't help but lean into him slightly, her head close to his chest. His slow, steady heartbeat was unusually loud in her ears.

"No, I left to find work. Tarabolsk is a poor backwater world; I would have ended up working the Tenten fields as a farm hand like my father and his father," He paused, momentarily lost in memory, but only a moment. "I was an impetuous youth. Farming didn't suit me."

Everything Inta had observed about Jyn to this point indicated that he was slow and deliberate, which she suspected was how he dealt with everything. If he was an impetuous Mammuthus, then the rest of his people must be glacial in their dealings.

The lift door opened onto the command deck, and they stepped out, Jyn nearly filling the hallway. As they stepped onto the bridge, he had to dip his head to get through the doorway.

"Everyone, this is Jyn," Inta said, introducing their guest. The crew pivoted in their seats to greet him and paused, eyes wide at the enormity of his presence.

After a beat, Will got up from his seat and extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Jyn. I'm Will." Will's hand disappeared in Jyn's fist; Will guessed that he could have crushed rocks bare-handed, judging by the rough calluses and thick, meaty fingers, but the handshake was firm and cordial.

"Let me introduce everyone. At Navigation is June, Ben's at the science station, and that's Thea next to him," he said, gesturing to each in turn. They waved in greeting. "Over there is Artona and Be'tule, and of course you've met Inta."

Be'tule tried not to stare, but he rarely met someone larger than he was. Artona eyed him suspiciously, evaluating how much of a threat he might be and likely calculating how she would need to take him down if necessary.

Inta stood beside Jyn, put a tiny silver hand on his massive forearm, and shot Artona a quick wink. The Urarc relaxed visibly. Inta had already decided that she liked him, and Artona had absolute trust in Inta's judgment of people. "Please come sit over here, Jyn; I have a seat just for you." A wide, low seat raised itself from the floor as she spoke, fitting Jyn's dimensions.

"Thanks," he said with a raised eyebrow, watching the chair form before his eyes. He settled into it gingerly, half expecting to crush it with his weight. When it did not collapse, he leaned back slightly, making himself comfortable.

"When you get to Khosrow, enter into an equatorial orbit. The Netherlands is currently located five hundred clicks north of the equator, roughly halfway between the mountains and the East Coast. Once you're close enough, you should pick up our guidance beacon," he said slowly in a low rumble.

"Alright folks, time's a wasting. Let's get going," June declared, engaging the Nestia's drive, beginning their final approach to Khosrow.

Will set the view screen to look forward, displaying a pale blue dot that swiftly grew larger.

As they approached the planet, it grew in apparent size on the forward monitor, expanding into a primarily blue sphere dotted sparsely with land masses that could be seen beneath scattered puffy white clouds.

High in Khosrow's orbit were three small moons, leftovers from the planet's primeval accretion disk that hadn't been pulled fully into the planet's mass nor managed to gather together in orbit; they were grouped close enough that at night on the planet, one could look up and see the three make their way across the night sky together.

Too small for practical outposts, the moons of Khosrow remained barren and unpopulated, only providing the planet below with relatively minor tidal action.

A blinking indicator on the navigational control caught June's attention. "We're picking up a whole bunch of Nav transponders from ships in orbit, about a hundred or so," she said, looking back to Jyn hopefully. "Did someone get here ahead of us?"

Jyn shook his head. "Those would be the automated freighters," he explained. "Only high value ore shipments, like Tantalarium, get escorted, crewed transports. Everything else is loaded onto automated freighters. Some bean counter in the corporate office did the math and determined that only the high value stuff was worth the expense of protecting."

"And eventually, the shipping companies grew tired of paying the ransom for crews captured by pirates," Will interjected, "and went with the automated freighters. Dumb move, if you ask me. Now they lose even more because attacking them are low risk, creating even more incentive to go after them. Completely short sighted on the part of the shipping company."

"You sound like you have experience," Jyn observed.

"June and I used to do short haul runs like this for Peirault. Pirates think twice when they know there are people on board who'll fight back. Peirault's not like that, but some shipping companies are run by idiots who've never set foot on a freighter."

Jyn nodded in agreement, then narrowed his eyes, questioning. "Used to? You don't work for them anymore?"

"Not full time. We run as independent contractors now. That allows us the flexibility to do what we want while still being able to pay the bills," Will answered.

"Like go on humanitarian missions," Jyn rumbled approvingly.

"Exactly." June confirmed. She looked back at the sensor readout and frowned. "So what's up with the freighters? Are the going to be reassigned or just hang out in orbit?"

"The latter, most likely," Jyn said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "It'd cost the company too much to send them away empty. These were queueing to be loaded, but now there's nothing to load; there's no one left to do it but the Netherlands' processing facility, but we've basically shutdown all operations and have been focusing on rescueing those we can from the mainland. I would expect that these will end up staying in orbit for a good, long while."

June shrugged her shoulders at the waste of it all, then returned her focus on the task at hand. She slowed their speed as they entered the atmosphere, punching through a thin layer of cloud cover until the unbroken expanse of the ocean opened below them. Following Jyn's directions, June shifted course, heading Northward.

After a few minutes, they began picking up the faint ping of the beacon signal. "Huh, you're picking the beacon up a quite a bit further out than I'd thought you would," Jyn commented. "You're going to want to follow that down, and when you get to the Rig, there will be several landing platforms surrounding the main facility. You're a little larger than the freighters we usually load up, so we've cleared the largest pad for you."

June piloted the Nestia on the Northern heading for several more minutes, then slowed their approach as the silhouette of the derrick appeared on the horizon. Calling it a derrick didn't do justice to the scale of the floating facility. The floating refining facility was a small, self-contained city covering roughly twenty hectares, with several multi-story buildings packed tightly together, all at different heights. It looked like they were added as operations expanded. Each building had several large smokestacks, now dormant, designed for whisking heat and fumes away from the heavy industrial processes occurring inside. All the buildings were sealed and secured from the harsh ocean environment outside.

Surrounding the main facility was an array of floating landing platforms, all labeled with large yellow lettering painted onto the deck. They were connected to the main facility via wide gangways and were robust enough to support heavy machinery. Several of the smaller landing pads looked badly damaged, with dozens of surface plates missing and gangways twisted to the point of being unusable.

"We took some damage as the tsunami rolled past underneath us," Jyn explained as they made their final approach, "a few of the platforms took the brunt of it, though it took a few days to clean up the mess inside from being tossed around." Sadness leaked into Jyn's usually stoic expression, "all told, we faired much better than the folks on the mainland."

June slowed the Nestia almost to a hover, circling the facility slowly. "Put down on A1, over there," Jyn said, pointing to the largest landing platform on the northern side of the facility.

Swinging the Nestia around, June extended the landing legs and touched down softly, dead center on the platform, before shutting down the gravity drive and running through the shutdown sequence, ramping down the power core to a low power idle.

"Softest landing I've seen with ship this size," Jyn commented, clearly impressed.

"Wait till you see what she can really do," June said, unable to contain her enthusiasm.

"I'm sure she's spectacular," Jyn said appreciatively, "but my instructions were to bring the team leaders to the Chief for mission planning as soon as we arrived," he said in a flat no-nonsense tone.

"Of course," Will chimed in. "Inta, can you ask the team leaders to send everyone they'll need in the strategy meeting down to the cargo bay?"

"Can do!" she chirped.

Jyn stood from his seat, ready to go. "Once we're all assembled, I'll take you all to the main conference room to meet the Chief and discuss our options."

"Sounds like a plan," June said. "Let's go."

As everyone began filing into the corridor, heading towards the door, Inta spoke up loud enough so everyone could hear her. "Why don't we use one of the forward lifts; the aft lifts are busy bringing the other teams down to the hangar level." Everyone nodded and followed Inta as she led the way, stopping at a doorway that looked like every other they had just passed.

It opened on what looked to be an empty shaft with no car to step into, though odd handrails started at the open doorway and bent inward and down until it made contact with the side of the shaft wall just below the doorway.

"Inta?" Will said her name questioningly. "Is there something wrong with the lift?"

"Nope, just testing out a new idea I had while talking with one of our quests." Then she stepped out into the open space of the lift shaft, her body pivoting at the point of contact with her feet until she was standing on the side of the shaft. She looked back at them as if they were in a hole in the floor from her perspective. "I've modified this whole shaft so that wherever you stand, the gravimetric plating will hold you there, just as if you were walking on the floor."

She looked down at them and smirked. "I just realized that standing here, you can all look up my dress," she said with a giggle. And once having said it out loud, almost instinctively, all eyes were drawn to the fact.

Ben blushed. "Inta you're not wearing any..."

"Panties, yeah, I know. That's what was so funny." Seeing the crew grinning and shaking their heads at her antics, she said, "It's not like I planned on flashing everybody; it just sort of happened.

June looked over to Jyn, who was red in the face, mortified, and intensely scrutinizing his shoes in apparent discomfort. She put a hand on his massive forearm reassuringly. "Don't mind Inta, she means well but doesn't have a modest bone in her body. She forgets that some folks aren't used to that sort of behavior."

"Erm, ah, well," Jyn stammered, "I don't mind, but the rest of the roughnecks on the Rig might get the wrong idea and see it as an invitation. She should be mindful of that when she comes aboard."

June smiled, thinking it sweet of Jyn to protect Inta's honor. "Don't worry, Jyn. Inta can handle herself, and it wouldn't surprise me that she just might invite their 'attention' to get to know them a little better."

Inta stepped away from the edge of the doorway, and then Ben stepped through, pivoting on the balls of his toes like Inta, but needed to hold onto the handrail while he did so until he stood next to Inta in the modified lift tube.

"Hmm, a trans-deck corridor. It's just like on a station arm, like Penrose, where they mold the grav plating to transition the direction of the 'floor'. The transition radius is just a little tighter." As an exploration, he continued to walk around the circumference of the tube until he stood on the opposite side, looking upside down from Inta. "It turns the tube into just another hallway, just running from the top decks to the bottom."

"No more waiting for the lift," Inta offered, gauging Ben's reaction.

"It would certainly speed up the throughput of moving people from deck to deck. The only restriction would be how fast they are walking. But it may be tricky to move loads of material through them; I think it would be too easy to tip over a loaded grav cart on a curved surface like this," Ben said, working through the possible drawbacks.

"We can always keep one or two of them as a regular lifts," Itna offered.

"Yeah, that would work," Ben said, then looked down through the open doorway to everyone waiting in the hallway, looking from his perspective like they were standing on the ceiling. "A promising modification, Inta. But for now, we need to concentrate on the task at hand," he said with a sweeping gesture, inviting everyone else into Inta's hallway experiment. "We'll need signage to remind us which direction is the upper decks and which is the lower."

Ben stepped aside, making room as the others entered the trans-deck corridor. Inta stood next to the doorway to assist in case the reorientation was too much for anyone. They filed in one by one, and most had no problem with it, having worked and lived in space for years, accustomed to the oddities of gravic-plated environments.

The only exceptions were Jyn and Diana. As Jyn entered, he stumbled slightly, but Inta immediately supported him until his equilibrium settled. "Ugh," the Mamuthus grunted, then looked surprised as Inta steadied his huge frame with little effort.

"Don't worry, I got you. Take your time," she said soothingly.

"It's been a long time since I've been in space and dealt with this sort of thing," he said apologetically as he regained his composure. Inta took him by the hand and walked him around the circumference of the tube-like hallway until the door was directly overhead, making room for the others.

Once Jyn was steady on his feet, Inta rounded the hallway back toward the door. Now on opposite sides, and due to his height, they were face-to-face but inverted.

"I can finally look you in the eyes," Inta giggled. "And I can do this," she said as she gave him a peck on his heavily bearded cheek, catching him by surprise.

Jyn put a hand to his cheek and shuffled down the corridor a short way to make room with a look of confused contemplation in his eyes.

The last person in the corridor was Diana, walking with her silver walking cane. Inta was there to help her make the transition, but she barely needed it. Inta smiled wide with pride, watching Diana's rapid progress. "You're doing so good, Honey," Inta beamed. "You're getting around so well."

Diana's smile was incandescent at Inta's praise. "All thanks to you," she whispered, squeezing the silver girl's hand softly.

June and Will led the group down the corridor, everyone roughly picking the same path on the circular wall, avoiding the odd perspectives of people walking on the floor or ceiling. They arrived at the last door, with Inta and Diana picking up the rear. No one had issues transitioning back to the deck hallway orientation this time. They continued to the hangar, where two or three members from each team were present and waiting for them.

"I am Jynthal Quoros, First Mate here on the Netherlands," the massive, tusked man introduced himself to the group.

"Margaret Devens," she said, stepping forward to shake the massive hand that dwarfed her own. "I am the onsite coordinator for this mission. Let me introduce the others. This is Nurse Emily Sloane, on my team from Penrose Station." Emily stood behind Devens and gave a little wave.

Then, gesturing to the Silvestrian contingent, "Tarek Dargan. He and his team are the search and rescue specialists." Tarek stood with another Silvestrian, arms crossed, and gave Jyn a curt nod.

"Peter Flinders, Medic first class and team lead for the Sorkon group." Devens introduced cooly.

The briefest of frowns crossed his expression, then smiled warmly at Jyn. "A pleasure."

"This is Dr. Rhenna Teanoda, our pharmaceutical specialist. She and her team will be responsible for dispensation of specialized drugs from Ansuil." Emily and Rhenna shared a surreptitious glance and tried to suppress their grins.

"And finally, this is Zarvok Kreb. He and his fellow Camair engineers will be responsible for restoration efforts of basic infrastructure, power, water, and the like." The short reptilian engineer, only coming up to Jyn's knee, gave a crisp salute.

Jyn stepped forward. "Good to meet you all. Everyone here?" He received several nods of agreement. "Good. Let us proceed."

Inta opened the hangar doors, and Jyn watched in fascination as the bright white metal rippled and flowed open. "An interesting ship indeed," he rumbled to no one in particular.

A short ramp formed from the side of the ship to the deck of the landing platform, and Jyn led them out.

A light breeze greeted them, carrying the salty scent of the ocean. The sun warmed their faces, shining through a thin layer of patchy clouds above. Inta was delighted by the sounds of sea birds and gentle waves lapping at the stabilized platform. She closed her eyes and took it all in, committing the moment to memory.

"If you'll follow me," Jyn said as he headed off across the gangway connecting the platform to the main structure of the derrick, and the group followed close behind.

Up close, the facility built on the derrick seemed that much more impressive as they crossed into the shadow of its towering height. There was a large set of heavy double doors in front of the gangway, which the dock trucks must use when loading freighters with their shipments.

The doors were opened slightly, just wide enough for Jyn to enter, his broad shoulders almost grazing the doors. The aid workers and Nestia crew followed two by two, behind him.

Inside the doors was a cavernous space, filled with excavating and material handling equipment of various sizes and designs. Cables from overhead cranes dangled down with large hooks from the ceiling, and some had empty bins suspended and were inactive. There was a small array of bucket trucks parked in front of mounds of raw materials, staged in front of several large smelting furnaces, waiting to be processed. The furnaces themselves were not currently in use, cool now, with only a small flicker of pilot lights gleaming from their depths.

Next to them stood dozens of half-filled ore crates, with lift trucks poised to move them onto waiting freighters.

"This is our ore processing facility," Jyn explained as he led them through the space. "This is where we refine the raw ore and prepare it for shipment." The space was largely devoid of activity, save for a couple of millwrights whose heads were stuck in an open panel of one of the inactive furnaces, taking the opportunity presented by the downtime to do some maintenance.

They crossed the space and walked through a slightly smaller set of doors into another section of the facility. Unlike the dry, dusty air of the smelting room, the air was cool and damp from the series of moon pools open to the ocean waters the derrick floated on. Docked in the moon pools were dozens of submersible tugs, some of which had their cargo doors open, showing the bins inside were empty.

They walked across a steel-grated bridge spanning the water between two sets of moored tugs. The space was lit by high bay lights overhead; light reflected off the gently lapping water and danced on the walls.

"This is where we bring up the ore from the ocean floor for processing. There is another sub-dock on the other side of the derrick for maintenance of the underwater mining equipment, but the conference room is in this direction."

Jyn led them through a door on the other side of the moon pools into a mechanical room filled with labyrinthine routed pipes running in every direction. The group could feel the oppressive heat radiating from the thick gauge plumbing as they passed through the steel jungle of piping.

Passing through another set of doors, they entered the cramped corridors of the main crew quarters. The bland green paint on the walls and white ceilings of the tight hallways were clean but faded from age and constant use, with the occasional fresh coat on an odd wall here and there indicated that maintenance was done as measured by utility and function, not form or aesthetics.

The group wound their way through the twisting corridors until they came across two burly, unshaven men walking towards them, deep in their own conversation.

"Hank, Jake, have you seen the Chief?" Jyn asked them gruffly.

Jake shrugged, but Hank answered. "I think she's still in the comms room."

"Thanks, Mate," Jyn replied, clapping them both on the back as he led the group past.

Several twisting corridors later, Jyn led them to a set of double doors, one with a slightly crooked engraved sign that read 'Communications'.

Upon entering, they spotted a tall, muscular woman hunched over a desk covered by electronic equipment, displaying maps, flight paths, and open communication channels with remote operators. Her unkempt red hair, lined with several streaks of gray, was tied back in a single, thick braid, keeping it out of her face while she worked.

"Didn't spot anyone on this run, Chief," came a voice from over the comms. "We're almost at the limit of our range."

"Alright then, have your flight crews head back," she ordered. "I want you to take a bit of a break when you get here, at least two hour in the racks, before you head out again. We'll have your birds refueled and ready for you after you've had some rest."

"Aye, Chief. On our way," was the response she received. She closed the channel, then gave a heavy sigh as she turned around to get a look at the group in front of her. "They're good lads; been running flights all over the Eastern seaboard since the shit hit the fan." She rubbed her eyes, heavy and dark with fatigue, then pinched her nose, trying to silence the throbbing headache that had plagued her for the last fortnight.

"Chief, this is the AAN relief team," Jyn announced. "They're here to help." His concern for her was clear in his voice.

"Good; about time," she replied tersely. "We've been running sortees nonstop looking for survivors, but we just don't have the manpower or range to cover so much ground."

"Sands, you need to get some rest, let these folks..." Jyn began but was interrupted.

"I am FINE," she said forcefully through gritted teeth. "We've pulled longer shifts than this. Besides, I need to brief them on the situation before they can formulate a proper plan of action."

"I'm Margaret Devens, the local coordinator for the team," she said, stepping forward, her hand outstretched.

"Sandra Gideon; charmed," she said gruffly. Then, in a moment of regret, "I'm sorry, it's been a rough couple of weeks," she said, getting out of her chair and accepting Devens' handshake. "We do appreciate you being here; it's just been hard, is all."

"I understand. We are grateful for your hospitality and allowing us to use the Netherlands as a base of operations," Devens replied.

"Not that you have much choice," Gidion countered. "Everything else has been fucked totally, pardon my language."

"You've done so much in the face of such a catastrophe; it's a credit to you and your crew," Devens said charitably.

Gideon nodded, accepting the compliment with a slight frown. "Not enough, I'm afraid. There's been so much devastation, so many lives, lost..." she trailed off.

"And we're here to make sure no one else suffers," Devens said reassuringly. She looked around at all of the equipment spread throughout the room. "So, this is your communications hub?" she said, steering the conversation in a more useful direction.

"Yes," the Chief replied. From here, we can communicate throughout the derrick, to the subs, and to our short-range flyers. That over there is the Q-Net link, our only link off-world. " She nodded to the grease-covered electronics in the corner of the room. "That is until you arrived."

"Let me reassure you, we won't be the last; as we speak, the AAN is mobilizing a full scale relief response. We're merely the first responders." The Chief visibly relaxed as Devens spoke. "Let's head to the conference room and discuss next steps and strategy."

Gideon stood up and headed for a second set of doors. "Right this way," she said and exited, holding the door open for Devens to follow. The rest of the relief team was close behind, all except for Diana, who had been hanging at the back of the group.

As everyone filed out of the second set of doors, a painful headache began forming behind her eyes that quickly escalated to a searing migraine. She leaned against the table in the corner of the room in front of the Q-net equipment, wincing in pain, holding one hand over her eyes and forehead as if applying pressure would ease her sudden suffering. Echoes of her torment unexpectedly seeped through the cracks of her mended mind, blotting out all else.

While her right hand covered her eyes and pressed her forehead, desperately trying to counter the building pressure, her left hand, seemingly of its own volition, swept across the Q-net terminal, finding the keyboard input.

Deftly, the fingers of her left hand entered a long series of numbers into the terminal, then hit 'connect'. The pain continued to intensify as the Q-net terminal flashed the message, "Trying to Connect," but after a moment, it was replaced by "Connection Refused".

With several more quick keystrokes from her seemingly autonomous left hand, the messages were cleared from the screen, and the pain behind Diana's eyes began to abate. Leaning against the table, she held her face in both hands and sobbed quietly.

Inta poked her head back into the comms room, a look of deep concern on her face. "Honey, are you okay?" she began to ask, but as soon as she saw Diana huddled in the corner, she rushed to hold her.

Diana leaned into Inta's embrace. "Inta, it hurt so bad," she said as her sobbing slowed, then stopped.

"It's okay, you're safe now," Inta reassured the shaken girl. "No one's going to hurt you again." Diana nodded and smiled weakly in response. Inta held her tight for a moment, bathing her in warm, radiating energy.

Diana relaxed in Inta's arms, breathing deeply and regularly again. "Why don't we go back to the ship and rest, huh?" Diana nodded with a small smile, her cheeks wet with tears.

"Hey guys, Diana isn't feeling great; I'm going to take her back to the Ship," Inta told the crew over their earpieces. "I'll be listening in from there if you need me." She felt their acknowledgment through the connection they shared and a sense of concern for Diana from all of them. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of her."

Inta draped one of Diana's arms over her shoulders and swept her off her feet in a princess carry. Diana nuzzled her head into the crook of Inta's neck. "I feel safe with you, Inta. You always know how to take care of me," she said softly into her ear.

"There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you, My Love," Inta replied. Deciding that Diana wasn't up for displacing directly back to the ship, she carried her back the winding path through the facility the way they came.

The pair garnered curious looks from the random Netherlands crew members they passed. Diana rested peacefully in Inta's arms, her head on her silver shoulder, eyes closed. As she walked, Inta gently probed Diana's aura. Signs of stress and strain were laced all along the mended edges of her psyche that Inta had meticulously labored to piece back together and heal, but deep scars remained.

Inta focused on the strained seams of Diana's aura, soothing and healing what she could. Diana visibly relaxed, and the remaining tension from the pain eased and melted away. Once they returned to the Nestia, Inta brought Diana straight to their lounge and laid her softly in bed before snuggling up close and pulling the covers up. Inta spooned Diana and lightly kissed her behind the ear. Diana quickly fell into a restful sleep, feeling the warmth of Inta's body and the restorative energy she bathed her in.

In the conference room, the crew shared a few concerned glances as everyone found a seat around the long table that occupied most of the room. It was covered in miscellaneous papers, half-empty coffee cups, and cafeteria trays with remnants of hastily eaten meals.

"I apologize for the mess," Gideon said as she and Jyn cleared the table. "We've had to convert the mess hall into an ad hoc infirmary, so we've been taking our meals wherever we can."

Devens cocked her head and leaned forward in her seat. "How many do you have in your infirmary?"

"We've been flying sorties since the tsunami, picking up anyone we find and bringing them back here," Gideon explained as she deposited an armful of trays and cups on a side table. "Only a hundred and twelve, so far; we haven't found anyone else for about a day."

A look of disappointment mixed with helplessness crossed her face. "A lot of them are in bad shape; our medic is doing what he can, stabilizing the people we've rescued, but we just aren't equipped to do much more. Normally, if someone got hurt out here on the derrick, we'd stabilize them then rush them to a hospital on the mainland, but now..." she didn't need to finish the sentence; the fact that there were no longer hospitals available was painfully obvious.

"Then that's priority one," Devens said decisively. Then she produced a short-range communicator from her pocket and dialed her assistant, who was still on the Nestia. "Deborah?"

"I'm here, Ms. Devens," answered the voice on the communicator.

"Assemble the trauma teams and send them to the derrick's infirmary. The Netherlands crew has evacuated a little over a hundred survivors who need medical attention. Bring the rapid response kits and one of the supply chests," she ordered.

"You got it," Deborah replied hurriedly.

"I'll help and show them the way," Inta said into June's earpiece, still listening in.

"Inta will guide them over," June explained to the group around the table.

"Jyn, have whoever is helping Tom in the Infirmary meet them," Gideon said as he stood silently, hulking in the corner behind her with his arms crossed. He gave the Chief a curt nod, then stepped out of the room.

"Medical team will see to those you've already rescued," Devens said with her elbows on the table and hands steepled before her. "What should the plan of action be from here? There's a lot of ground to cover."

Gideon let out a weary sigh at the enormity of the task before them but then screwed up her face in defiant determination. "Our sorties have covered a large portion of the eastern seaboard, and we've managed to tap into the weather satellites, using them to monitor as much of the mainland as we can." She picked up a datapad from the table in front of her, punched a couple of keys, and brought up a holographic representation of the continent that hovered just over the surface of the table.

"Bear with me a moment. We usually use this when we're scouting the ocean floor. We generated this map from the data scraped from the satellites." Her brow furrowed in frustration for a moment, and then details began populating the map, overlaid on the terrain displayed.

"This is the area here," she said as she highlighted a long strip of coastal area directly east of the derrick, "This is where the population density was the highest so that's where we've concentrated our fly-overs and rescued those we've found."

Ben got a sick feeling in his stomach as he looked at the map of the area that used to be home to millions. "And only a hundred were found," he said. Somber expressions crossed everyone's face as the reality of the situation sunk in further.

Gideon could only grimace and nod. "This is the max range of our flyers, but we've been watching the satellite feeds carefully, and we've spotted several regions during the night where there seems to be dense groupings of campfires, giving us hope that people inland and on the west coast faired better than their east coast counterparts." She highlighted a half dozen points on the map, scattered across the battered continent, close to population centers. "These are the locations where we've been seeing signs of gathering survivors."

Gideon leaned back in her chair and ran a hand over her head, brushing several rouge strands that had escaped her braid out of her face. "The problem is two-fold: first, we've been on the horn constantly on every communications medium we can think of, and have received no response. It doesn't appear that those folks out there have any means to communicate. I don't think they even know that help is on the way."

She paused a moment before continuing. " Second, until you arrived, we didn't have any vehicles with the range to get out there. At the very least, the Nestia can reach the locations we can't."

"In addition to the Nestia herself, we have several smaller craft, a shuttle, and three smaller pods at our disposal," June offered. "The pods have a nearly unlimited range and can scout further for survivors."

Devens cleared her throat. "We need to concentrate our energy on establishing aid stations as close to gathered survivors as possible." She scrutinized the map, then leaned forward. "I propose we work our way westward, starting at this location here," pointing at a spot on the map about halfway across the narrow continent, which Gideon marked with a pin. "Establish a full aid station, man it with a team, then move onto the next location."

"We can fly the Nestia there, offload needed equipment, supplies, and personnel, then move on to the next location," June offered. "The team members staying behind can provide services and supplies to the folks they find."

Gideon nodded in agreement. "That way, the Nestia can move on and establish the other aid stations while those left behind can continue to tend to the needs of the refugees."

Tarek's cat-like ears flicked as he eyed the pinned locations on the map. "There's a high probability that even if we establish an aid station nearby, people in the surrounding area won't be aware that we've set up shop nearby. The Silvestrian search and rescue team brought several extremely sensitive scanners we use to find people lost or trapped under rubble. We can mount them to the pods and begin grid searches around each location."

"We only have a few pods, and they're single-seaters; we won't be able to transport anyone with them," Ben pointed out. "We may be able to find them, but still don't have a way to get the injured to the aid stations."

As Ben finished stating his observation, Inta stepped into the room through the doorway Jyn had exited a few minutes earlier. Behind her in the hallway, the noise of dozens of people from the Nestia, led by Jyn, passed, heading for the infirmary.

"I can modify the pods a bit so they can carry a few people at a time; seats enough for a crew of two and a space for a gurney, or a couple of survivors," Inta chipped in as she closed the door on the noisy hallway behind her.

"That would work," Tarek said, stroking his whiskers thoughtfully. "A pilot and a member of my search and rescue team to operate the scanner. As they find folks, they can transport them to the nearby station. How long will it take to modify your pods?" he asked Inta.

"A couple hours at the most. I'll start immediately," she replied without hesitation.

"There's still too few pods to cover such a large area," Thea chimed in, considering the logistics of the operation. "In addition to the active search, we'll need a way to announce our presence and to get the word out to those who are able, to head to the aid stations under their own power."

"A beacon of some sort," Ben offered, "Something visible from far off to guide people to the station who can walk there." He thought for a moment, then continued. "We can set a drone to hover over the aid station carrying a bright, pulsing light, something that could be seen for miles away."

"We have dozens of spare flight warning lights in inventory we use for visibility on our stacks and masts here on the derrick that we could use," Gideon replied.

"How bright are they, how far off could you see them?" Ben asked.

Gideon squinted her eyes, looking up and to the right, doing some rough math in her head. "On a clear night, with an unobstructed line of sight, seventy-five klicks, give or take."

"I can put together some long duration drones that you can attach them to," Inta added, feeling the flow of the group-think. "They won't need to fly far or fast, just stay in the air over each station."

"Being visible is all well and good," Tarek said darkly, his ears flicking in irritation, " but if people don't know what the lights in the sky mean, how are they going to know that they need to head in that direction? There's no public broadcast system left in place."

There was silence around the table for a few seconds, then Ben exclaimed, "I know what we can do." All eyes were on him. "We do an old-fashioned pamphlet drop. As we're flying search grids, we release loads of printed information with details on where the aid stations are located, maybe some basic first aid instructions, and a message that they haven't been abandoned and help is on the way."

The group considered the idea as Ben continued. "What these people need right now is hope; in the darkest times, for someone in truly desperate situations, it can make the difference between life and death. They need something to cling to until help arrives."

"It's a good idea," Devens replied, hearing Ben's reasoning as several others voiced their agreement. "But how do we implement it? We'd need thousands, maybe tens of thousands of these pamphlets. Where are we going to get them? What does the logistics of that look like?"

Ben glanced over to Inta, who gave him a slight nod. "Leave that to Inta and me. We can whip something up in short order, I'm sure."

"Okay, you're on the pamphlet production and distribution," Devens acknowledged. "And what about infrastructure rehabilitation?" she asked, turning her attention to the Caimar engineer, who had been silent up to this point.

Zarvok had been quietly studying the map in front of them as the others had been discussing the other aspects of the plan. "There are several considerations that need to be made as we proceed," he began, as he scratched his long, thin snout contemplatively. "Firstly, there is going to be wreckage everywhere, and when we establish these aid stations, we are going to need heavy equipment for the clearing of wreckage, leveling soil, moving material and the like."

"The Netherlands' ore processing facility has been dormant since the start of all this," Gideon began. "All of our excavators and other material handling equipment have been sitting idle. We can load these onto the Nestia and use them to establish these outposts."

"Good, good," Zarvok acknowledged, pleased. "Secondly, reconditioning the local infrastructure won't be an easy feat, more than likely taking much longer than setting up the aid stations. Even though we'll have emergency power and water, it's critical we get the native systems up and running as quickly as possible. The central problem there is we won't understand how badly degraded these systems are until we're on the ground and evaluate them, which will take time."

The faces around the table all looked at him as he continued his explanation, waiting for him to get to the point. "The Nestia will need to move onto the next location before we've fully determined what is needed, and there will undoubtedly be surprises we uncover as we investigate. The Nestia is carrying all of our spare parts and extra material; we're not going to know what we need from our inventory likely until the Nestia has moved on to the next location."

Thea, understanding the logistical challenge Zarvok was expressing, made a thoughtful suggestion: "We can use Nestia's shuttle to transport engineers and materials from location to location as needed. "

"The shuttle has room for a dozen engineers, if we sit snuggly," she said with a half-suppressed grin to Zarvok, "and what can't fit into its small cargo hold can be affixed to the underbelly and transported that way. I know it's got the power for it." Inta nodded in agreement. "I can pilot the shuttle while June pilots the Nestia."

The group gathered around the table and looked around at each other, beginning to look pleased as a solid plan took form. However, Be'tule's broad shoulders sagged as he stared at the representation of the eastern seaboard of the low-lying continent with increasing consternation and sadness. Artona, sitting close next to him, saw the worry on his face and gave him a small nudge in his side and cocked her head, indicating for him to speak up.

"And what of the survivors on the seaboard? All locations we've picked are mid-continent and westward, ignoring the east coast. Are we abandoning them?" Everyone's faces looked grim at his observation, and Devens sighed heavily.

"In situations of grave emergency, however distasteful, you have to triage resources to where it will do the most good," she said, clearly pained. "The unfortunate fact is that there are, in all likelihood, very few survivors along the eastern seaboard, and many more lives that are in jeopardy further west, that can still be saved. We need to focus efforts where it will do the most good." Even as she said it out loud, it sounded callous and bitter in her ears.

"We will continue to fly sorties with our short range flyers, looking for survivors," Gideon said with determination. "We'll begin dropping pamphlets as soon as they're ready, with instructions to get visible so we can spot them or head west to the closest aid station." A fiery determination lit her eyes. "We will do everything in our power to rescue as many people as we can, for however long it takes."

Be'tule nodded, still sad because he knew there was only so much they could do, and hoped it would be enough.

****

At the conclusion of the meeting, they all headed in different directions to get their teams ready to execute the tasks laid before them. While the others headed back to the Nestia or other areas of the Netherlands to prepare supplies and equipment for departure, Gideon offered to lead Devens and Emily to the Infirmary.

As they made their way through the tight hallways of the derrick, Deven noted how exhausted Gideon looked. As they walked, one of Gideon's roughnecks, heading in the opposite direction, stopped them. "Oh good, Chief, glad I found ya," he said, evident that he had been looking for her. "The flyers are back, parked on C2. Jyn told me you wanted to know as soon as they touched down."

Gideon nodded. "Yes, I did. Run and tell the maintenance crew to do a level two inspection before they fuel them back up. We've been putting a lot of runtime on those flyers, and we can't afford any breakdowns or mishaps."

"You got it, Chief," he replied, then turned to leave. She grabbed one of his shoulders and held him for a moment. "And make damn sure those pilots go straight to their bunks. We can't afford to have them fall asleep behind the stick." She paused before letting him go, thinking of something else. "Make sure the flyers are stocked with some ration packs and liquids; they need to keep their energy up while they're out there." She glanced at Devens, who gave her a look of understanding. "How long will it take to inspect and refuel the flyers?"

"About three hours, I guess," he replied.

"Good. Let them sleep for the duration and have a quick meal ready for them when they wake," she said, releasing him with a hearty slap on the back. "You're a good man, Sullivan. Keep up it up." He gave her an appreciative nod, then hurried on down the corridor.

"I bet you haven't had more than a few hours sleep yourself since this all started," Deven said, knowing her guess wasn't far off the mark. "Backup has arrived; you should follow your own advice and get some rest," she said as they continued.

"No time, there's just too much to do," Gideon replied stubbornly. They turned a corner, and a set of double doors was just in front of them, 'Infirmary' stenciled in block lettering on the door.

Gideon was about to pull one of the doors open and enter, but Devens put her hand on the door, holding it shut. "A long time ago, I was a medic during a long stretch of heavy fighting during the liberation of Ut'lan, one of the moons of Bellador. It was a bloodbath; every twenty minutes, a fresh wave of wounded soldiers arrived for almost two weeks straight."

Gideon scowled at Devens, not used to being lectured to, especially on her own rig, but let her continue. "The surgeons were top notch, and we were all professionals, but after the first week, running only on brief naps when they could be squeezed in, the doctors and nurses began making mistakes, and though no one faulted them for it, some of those kids didn't make it home because of it."

Devens' usually tough demeanor softened into an expression of sympathy. "What you have been able to accomplish thus far with what little you have to work with is astounding. But we're going to need you for the long haul. If you don't rest, you won't be any good to anyone and will end up getting someone hurt or worse."

Gideon was stubborn, but she didn't become the head of operations by not listening to good advice. "Okay, you're right," she conceded. "After I drop you off at the infirmary, I'll go catch a few hours in the rack myself. It'll take a bit of time to prep the loaders for transport; I'll have Jyn wake me before you head out to the first location."

Devens moved away from the door and gave her a rare smile. "Thank you, Ms. Gideon."

"Everyone calls me Sands," she replied good-naturedly. "I'm glad they sent another hard ass to make sure things run right."

Gideon gave her a wink, pulled the door open, then stepped inside. Devens and Emily followed.

The infirmary was relatively small, with barely enough room for ten cots, leaving only narrow walking space between the beds.

One or two Nestia medics were at each bed, either reading charts or directly evaluating the patient before them, conferring with the Netherlands medic or one of his helpers.

With a quick scan across the room, it was evident that most of these survivors were in critical condition, barely hanging on.

"Frenchy," Gideon called to a medic Devens didn't recognize, who was pointing out details on a medical chart to one that came from the Nestia. He looked up when he heard his name. "A word, when you get a minute," Gideon finished. He gave her a curt nod, then continued his discussion, which lasted several more minutes. He handed the medical chart to the young male medic he spoke with, then went over to Gideon and Devens.

"Frenchy, I'd like you to meet Ms. Devens, the lead coordinator from the AAN. Margaret, this is Frenchy, our medic here on the derrick."

"Charles-Francois Delacruix, at your service," he said, shaking Devens hand vigorously. He spoke rapidly and was slightly twitchy; judging by the dilation of his pupils, Devens was sure he had been ingesting heroic amounts of stimulants.

"You can call me C. F., or Frenchy, or whatever; I don't mind. I can't tell you how glad I am that you are here; thank you so much," he said, still vigorously pumping her hand. There's only so much I could do for these people, and there are so many." Deven looked down at her hand, which he was still shaking, and suddenly recognizing the awkwardness, he stopped.

"The folks in this room are in the worst shape; three with severed limbs, two with several broken ribs and internal bleeding, a broken back with spinal nerve damage, two with severe head trauma, one of whose head and face was crushed. The rest of the folks we rescued with less severe injuries are in the mess hall; dozens of broken bones, contusions, and almost all of them were severely dehydrated. Sands assigned the few crew member who knew some basic first aid to help, but unfortunately, I'm the only one on board, well that is until you folks arrived, who's had any medical training."

Devens listened intently to Frenchy describe each patient's status, then turned to Emily. "We need to get these patients into surgery immediately; we don't have time to set up a proper O. R. here. We'll have to transport them back to Nestia's med bay."

She saw that most of her surgeons were currently in the room, evaluating patients. "Emily, go to the mess hall and let the rest know we will need everyone to prep for immediate surgery." Emily nodded and quickly headed to the other room to let the others know. Devens then pulled out her communicator and opened a channel. "Attention all AAN medical staff. We need to prep the ship's med bay for immediate surgery, several, in fact. We need a dozen gurneys to the infirmary for transport. Make it quick, people."

Returning to Frenchy, "Let me see the list of wounded," she demanded, her tone that of a battlefield commander. He handed her his data tablet, and reading it quickly, she made a quick determination. "These six need to be ready to move in ten minutes. Have them ready to go when the gurneys arrive. My people will assist. As soon as they are on their way to the ship, you'll need to temporarily find somewhere else for these others so we can sterilize and set the room up as another operating room. Emily here will assist you."

Frenchy and Emily nodded in unison, then began helping the other medical staff prepare the injured for transport. Eight minutes later, a handful of nurses arrived with a dozen anti-grav gurneys floating behind them. As soon as they were prepped, the patients were carefully transferred to the gurneys and, one by one, headed back to the Nestia for surgery. Devens choreographed her team's actions like a chess grandmaster and left with the last patient to go back to the Nestia.

Emily stayed behind, helping to drag furniture out of a nearby office and stacking it in the hallway, making room for the remaining less critically wounded patients. Sweat beaded on her brow as she helped remove the remaining cots from the infirmary.

Frenchy then helped her pull several large cases, brought from their supplies on the Nestia, into the nearly empty infirmary. "There's enough space for two operating theaters," Emily explained as she opened the case, revealing a couple of dozen gray, grapefruit-sized orbs sitting on the top of the equipment. "Place these in the corners of the room, floor and ceiling, then activate them. Once in place, they will create a force curtain, and then sterilize everything inside. We'll setup the two operating rooms with an adjoining clean room for scrub in."

Together, they placed the spherical devices, and once they were all in place, faint blue planes, dividing up and surrounding the room snapped into existence. They stepped out of the main spaces into the designated 'scrub in' areas, and in unison, the orbs began pulsing, bathing the enclosed spaces with intense energy.

"It'll take about thirty minutes for it to run the cycle and fully sterilize the room," Emily explained to Frenchy as they stepped out into the hallway, and the devices in the scrub-in area began bathing it in the same cleansing energy. "Can you post some signs on the doors warning that it's now a sterile environment? I'll stay and make sure no one wanders in and gets cooked."

"Of course, right away," Frenchy said, going off to find one of the maintenance team members for the signage. Emily leaned against the wall waiting for Frenchy to return. As she waited, the comforting aroma of coffee wafted through the air. Feeling like she could use a little pick me up, she followed her nose around a corner to a small counter set into the wall, on which sat an old coffee brewer and a rack of mismatched mugs. She grabbed two mugs, a plain orange mug and one with the Leviathan Mining Corp Logo with subtext that read, "I dig this Job!" which brought a small smile to her lips.

She poured the slightly burnt coffee into the mugs and took a sip out of the logoed mug. The slightly bitter taste made her think of the long quiet shifts at the Penrose Infirmary, chatting happily with the others around the nurse's station.

Hearing footsteps coming down the hall that sounded like Frenchy's, she picked up the mugs and returned to the infirmary. When she turned the corner, she saw that he had already begun applying the stick-on lettering on the doors warning of the sterilized interior.

She waited a moment until he finished and, when he stood, offered him the orange mug full of steaming liquid.

"You looked like you could use a little something," she said softly.

Frenchy smiled and accepted the beverage. "Thanks, I really could," he replied. "We don't have much of a lounge, but there's a couple of seats down the hallway and to the left, if you want to take a quick break."

Emily could see that the last few weeks weighed heavy on him; having to treat and care for so many survivors practically on his own had taken its toll, bringing him to near total exhaustion. "Yeah, that sounds good. Let's go," she said and gave him a smile.

He returned it with a weary smile. Whatever stimulants he had been taking were clearly losing their efficacy. They walked in silence until Frenchy stopped them in front of a big bay window overlooking a landing pad on which several of their short-range flyers were currently parked, sitting in the slightly overcast sunlight.

A small table stood between two worn, miss-matched, overstuffed chairs, angled slightly towards the windows so that those seated could either look out the window, carry on a conversation, or both.

Frechy gestured for Emily to take a seat, then sat after she had. He let out a big sigh as he sipped the coffee, just staring out the window.

"This is a cozy little spot," Emily observed, watching the maintenance crews work around the flyers outside.

Frenchy nodded. "I come here when I have a quiet moment in the infirmary." He bowed his head and looked deep into the mug of coffee clutched in his hands. "And also, when I get the heads up from the Chief that the flyers are returning." He turned to look at Emily." So I can see how many survivors they managed to rescue," he explained.

Emily watched as the weariness in his expression grew, joined by a deep sadness. She could see that he needed to unburden himself, so let him continue uninterrupted. "Most of the crew aboard the derrick are off-worlders, looking for a good job, but there are quite a few locals who managed to acquire specific skills needed here, me included."

He paused and took a sip of his coffee. "Khosrow has... had," he corrected himself, with a slow shake of his head, "had a booming resort economy. Most of the kids from my neck of the woods ended up there; as servers, bellhops, or whatever. My brother and sister both ended up working at resorts; my sister Julia, the eldest, worked her way up from cleaning rooms to management in one of the hotels. She got my brother Pierre his job in maintenance as a handyman.

It broke my father's heart that neither wanted to work at the little cafe he and my mother ran. A little shop off the main strip, just north of Tenbaru, a big tourist vacation spot. They opened it before any of us were born, and fought tooth and nail for thirty years to keep it open. We kids helped when we were little, but were stubbornly determined not to work there for the rest of our lives like our folks."

He gave a sad laugh, "And as soon as they were old enough, they got their jobs and moved away. I stayed being the youngest, but I had it in my head that I was going to do more that my folks too. Each night after the cafe closed, I studied for an emergency medical technician license. And they never complained, my parents that is. My mother would bring me my dinner as I studied, but one night, I caught the look in her eyes; it was a weird mix of pride and sadness. They both did their best to let us pursue our own destiny, and tried not to let us know how much it hurt them; but I saw."

Emily saw the tears welling in the corner of Frenchy's eyes and put a hand on his in sympathy. "I saw it, and continued on anyways. Eventually, I got a job for an ambulance company and moved out. As the years past, we visited them at the cafe less and less frequently, and when I got a really good paying position out here on the Netherlands, I only managed to get back maybe once a year."

Tears were flowing freely down his cheeks now. "When the tsunami hit, it flattened Tenbaru, like the rest of eastern seaboard, and every time the flyers come back from their sorties, I'd sit here watching them unload the survivors they rescued, hoping that they had found them, any of them. But it never is them."

It was suddenly clear to Emily that in the frantic aftermath of the disaster, like the rest of the crew of the Netherlands, he hadn't had time to grieve. Now, with a small space to breathe, it all came rushing at Frenchy, drowning him in sorrow. She set her coffee down, kneeled in front of Frechy's chair, and pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tight.

His emotional dam broke, and he sat there sobbing into her shoulder, wordlessly releasing weeks of pain and loss. She held him like that for a long time, until his sobbing slowed and tears began to run dry. "Thank you," he said simply, sitting back in his chair and wiping away the tears streaking his face.

Emily dragged her chair a little closer to his and continued to hold his hand as they watched the beams of sunlight dance over the landing platform, shining through the breaks in the flowing clouds. After several more minutes, she realized his chin was resting on his chest, having fallen asleep. He was breathing softly, his half-finished coffee perilously close to slipping out of his loosening grasp.

She took the mug from his hands, setting it on the window sill, and got up, searching for the blankets she had seen stashed in a linen closet earlier. She returned with one, propped his feet on the little table, and covered him with the blanket, trying to make him as comfortable as possible so he could get the rest he so clearly needed.

Then she sat down and curled up in the seat next to him, sipping her coffee, deciding that he shouldn't be alone when he woke.

****

As Inta made the final modifications to the pods, stretching their frame, adding extra seating space, and the pamphlet disbursal mechanisms Ben and Will had quickly sketched out. Her expansive mind monitored the bee hive of activity in and around the Nestia as everyone made preparations for departure.

Thea had already flown the shuttle to a nearby landing pad and was now in one of Nestia's engineering alcoves reviewing the maps provided by the Netherlands crew with the Caimar engineers. They poured over them, comparing the city maps against recent satellite images, and discussed how to revive the badly damaged local infrastructure.

Ben and Will were working on attaching the pamphlet delivery devices that they and Inta had designed to the underside of the Netherlands' short-range flyers. Out of the whole crew, Ben's mind was most suited to thinking beyond three dimensions; it was he who first suggested that the manufacture and printing of the informational pamphlets be done on the Nestia and then displaced through the briefcase-sized devices attached to the belly of the flyers. In flight, there would be a constant stream of them being ejected behind the flyers, which would then flutter to the ground.

Inta, smiled for a moment, thinking about kind, old Gary in his bookshop aboard the Dallas, and wondered what he would think about his printing press 'ole Bessy' being the inspiration for part of this ambitious rescue effort.

Be'tule and Artona were with Jyn and several of his team in the ore processing facility as they prepped the material handling trucks for loading onto the Nestia. Inta watched the three of them interact and saw an interesting dynamic form. Artona, like most Urarcs she had briefly observed, was action-oriented and result-driven, with an Alpha-like attitude; Be'tule tended to be less assertive, belying his immense physical stature, content to support those around him. Jyn's personality seemed ideally suited to be first mate, perfectly willing to support the Chief, carrying out orders, but with a no-nonsense ability to direct and inspire subordinates.

Inta considered the three an interestingly complementary set, and she wondered cheekily if this might lead to more than a good working relationship.

Inta also monitored the activity in the Medical bay as several surgical teams operated on the most severely injured rescued survivors. Two patients had already been treated, and the medical teams were working wonders. The skilled surgeons mended the flesh with precision and care, while the Linyphiidae pharmacists provided regenerative serums that accelerated healing.

Inta observed Rhenna as she went from patient to patient, discussing their status with each attending Linyphiidae pharmacist, acting as anesthesiologist, providing feedback, and occasionally suggesting small tweaks in dosages. It was clear that her team held her in high regard, professionally, but from the texture of their auras, she could sense little to no emotional connection between them, which made her all the more glad that Rhenna and Emily had found each other.

Inta stood a couple of paces from the pods in front of the open hangar doors, as they reshaped themselves according to her will. As she finished the alterations for the last pod, Inta felt June's familiar presence approach from behind her. "How's it going, Hun?" June said as she hugged her tightly from behind.

"Just about finished, My Love," Inta replied. "You can take these two out and park them with the shuttle; by the time you're done I will be, too."

June nodded, then furrowed her brow with a look of curiosity. "You know, I just realized that I don't think I've ever seen you fly anything on your own. If you can control so many delicious bodies, all at once," she said while caressing a silver breast through the fabric of her sundress, "why not the ships as well?"

Inta paused a moment, having never even considered the notion before. "Hmm, Good question. It doesn't feel right, I suppose. I am the interface, an instrument of the will and desires of the crew, the connection that binds ship and crew together."

June's expression became serious, and she slipped around Inta to embrace her, face to face. "Is that really how you see yourself, only as a something for us to use? I hope you know that you are so much more to us than that. We love and cherish you, and would do anything and everything for you." June laid a hand softly on Inta's silver cheek. "I don't want you to be anything less than everything you could be."

Inta turned her head and placed a small kiss on the palm of June's hand. "I know, My Love," she said softly. "It's tough to explain. I feel a hesitancy to take control like that," Inta said, introspectively.

She closed her eyes for a moment and stretched out with her thoughts to one of the pods. "When I reach out to the controls of the pod, for instance, I get a strange feeling; a weird feedback loop is formed. I am in control and being controlled; small signals get amplified, re-amplified, and distorted; it's disorientating."

As her mind momentarily raced, a brief memory re-emerged, and her eyes went wide. "It's fail-safe, a protection for my mind," Inta declared. "I remember now. Before I transitioned to the crystalline matrix, I was instructed in preparation for my new role," she said, blinking away the disorientating feedback as she released the pod's controls. "Those who become an interface, like me, are, or rather were, warned of the limitations of the design of the architecture. The feedback can become severe and warp the mind."

As she spoke, long-buried half-memories crackled out of Inta's past like bursts of small fireworks. Images flashed in Inta's mind of bright burning blue fire against the black backdrop of space, ships decompressing with explosive violence, and horrible fighting on wide, darkened fields, still and bloody bodies strewn about as far as the eye could see.

"Inta? Inta, are you okay?" June asked, concerned. She had seen her react like this before. "Are you remembering something?"

Inta blinked her eyes for a moment, coming back to the present. "Yeah, I'm okay, just some fractured memories, little glimpses of the past. It... none of it really made sense, but I get the feeling that it's related to the feedback problem. Though how, I'm not sure." Inta frowned, and June could feel how much her visions disturbed her. June held her tighter, comforting her.

Inta soaked in the care and affection June bathed her in, the horrible unease she felt slowly abated, leaving only the echoes of the long past. "I feel silly to be so shaken like this."

June's expression was pensive as she lovingly stroked the hair on the back of Inta's head. "Sometimes the mind is forced to extreme measures to protect itself," she said, "and with as much trauma that you've endured over the millenia, it's not surprising that you're trying to protect yourself. Just know that we all love you and will do everything in our power to protect you."

The heartfelt admission soothed Inta, and her body unclenched, releasing the tension she didn't realize she was holding. Inta clung to June for a moment longer, then released her. "We'd better get back to work; we still need this space for the Equipment from the Netherlands," Inta said with renewed confidence.

As they were about to climb into the pod, Artona and Be'tule, followed by Jyn, walked up the ramp into the hangar. "The excavating equipment is all lined up on the gangway, ready to be loaded," Jyn said from behind the other two.

June asked, "We were just about to move the pods outside. Do you have any flight experience?"

Jyn chuckled, "I wouldn't even fit in such a small craft."

Be'tule shook his head, "Afraid not. More of a gardener, myself."

Artona clapped both Jyn and Be'tule on the shoulders as she stepped forward, grinning. "A good warrior familiarizes themselves with all manner of weapons systems, combat flyers among them." Though smaller than both Jyn and Be'tule, she was still seven feet tall and built like a brick wall.

She climbed up and into the pilot seat of the nearest pod with some difficulty but managed to stuff her enormous frame behind the controls. "It's a tight fit, but I can still fly it, I think," she said, looking comically oversized in the relatively smaller space.

Inta squinted her eyes momentarily, focusing on the pod Artona was in. The fuselage rippled and flexed all at once, expanding as the Urarc sat amid the unexpected movement. After a brief moment, the pod seemed to firm up again, and Artona found herself sitting much more comfortably.

"Ah, that's more like it!" she said, then proceeded through a quick preflight check. She called out, "I'll only be a minute, boys!" and without closing the canopy, she engaged the engine, lifted off, and shot out of the hangar, canines exposed in a big toothy grin, wind whipping through her fur.

June turned to Inta. "You want to ride with me, Hun, and test the new fit?" she asked.

Inta perked up immediately. "Sure do!" She chirped and climbed into the second seat behind June. Inta's modifications of the pod stretched the length by about three meters allowing room behind the pilot for a second seat that could swivel to face forward or sideways. Behind that, was a long flat space that someone could be laid down in, padded for comfort.

Inta had also modified the entry port from a side door to an open canopy that the pilot and passengers would need to climb into to sit. She made it easier to do so by adding a small Nerf bar along the sides of the pod to step up on.

June climbed into the pilot's seat and began her preflight checks. Inta gave her a quick peck on the cheek as she climbed in behind her and sat down. "The canopy control is the same as it was for the original door," Inta offered helpfully.

June found it in the expected location on the control board and activated it. Jyn and Be'tule watched as the edges of the open canopy poured upwards against gravity, joining at the top of the pod. The canopy encapsulated the cockpit smoothly and seamlessly, hiding the occupants from sight. Jyn squinted but couldn't distinguish where the original white metal began and where the canopy began.

The pod shimmered, silver sweeping across all surfaces of the pod then it lifted off smoothly, flying slowly out of the hangar, heading to the adjacent landing pad. Shortly after June and Inta's pod left, Artona came running back up the ramp, wearing a wide smile and laughing loudly, sounding almost maniacal. "I haven't been behind the stick since I was going through my clan's warrior trials. I almost forgot how much of a rush it is!" she yelled to the two enormous men, watching her, shaking their heads with humor and disbelief in equal measure. "Wanna ride? I'm sure we can stuff you in the back."

"Ah, no, I'm good," Jyn said, declining what he was sure to be a mad ride. Be'tule took a step back, raising all four hands in surrender.

"Wimps. Fine, suit yourself," Artona called playfully as she vaulted in the pilot's seat, settling herself in as it reshaped to fit her frame. The skin of the pod flashed silver, and she punched the throttle, blasting out of the hangar at full speed with the top down, cackling wildly as the wind whipped over her.

"She's a wild one," Jyn observed as the wind from the departing pod tussled his beard.

"You have no idea," Be'tule replied, his thoughts on Artona's other wild proclivities.

With space now made in the hangar, Jyn stepped to the door and signaled to the operators sitting patiently in the line of excavators, dozers, and frontend loaders to proceed. They rumbled to life and proceeded up the ramp into the hangar. A few of the lighter pieces of equipment were equipped with antigrav pads and glided on board, only the hum of their generators making noise, but the rest rode on heavy wheels or tracks, needing much more stability when moving heavy loads; they ground noisily as they lumbered aboard.

Be'tule hung back and watched as Jyn expertly directed the traffic of incoming equipment, barking orders loudly over the noise of the equipment, directing the drivers to park closely with each other maximizing space. As each loader and bulldozer rumbled to a halt, the operator jumped out and secured their piece of equipment down with a set of mag locks for transport.

All told, loading of the material handling machinery took less than thirty minutes. As the last few heavy machines were being secured, June, Artona, and Inta walked up the ramp into the now cramped and tightly packed hangar, just as Devens arrived from the upper decks.

"How goes the preparations?" Devens asked Jyn as he gave some last instructions to his operators. He sent them off with the others to gather their gear and turned to reply.

"We're just about ready. My operators are heading back to their bunks to pack for the trip. I assume you have room enough for them aboard the Nestia?" he asked.

"We have a few more bunk rooms available for your folks," Inta replied without hesitation. "We've got a lot more capacity if needed," she said, her voice full of excitement. "It's been a long time since we've had this many aboard; I've almost forgotten what it's like."

Jyn raised an eyebrow in response but said nothing.

"How did the surgeries go?" June asked Devens with a look of concern.

"Exceptionally well," Devens replied, a sublime satisfaction painted on her face. "The Nestia med-bay is well appointed and thanks to the talented surgeons and fantastic healing accelerants provided by the Linyphiidae, all are expected to make a full recovery. Though individuals with severe head trauma are the worst off; I expect they will need many months of physical therapy to recover."

Her expression became wistful. "The psychological trauma will be more difficult to deal with. Their bodies are now on the mend, but their lives have been shattered. They all will need a tremendous amount of support to recover in the months and years to come." They all acknowledged that hard fact in silence, then Devens continued, ever the pragmatist. "Let's check in with the other teams, shall we? We need to deploy as soon as we are ready; there's lots more folks out there that need our help."

Deven unclipped the communicator hanging from her belt and called into it, "All AAN teams, I need your readiness status. Engineers, please report."

"All engineering staff, ready to go," came Zarvok's high-pitched voice over the channel.

"Medical staff aboard the Netherlands," Devens called.

"Ninety percent of the wounded have been treated, the last few are either currently in surgery or prepped for surgery. I expect we'll have everyone treated and comfortable within a few hours," the medic replied.

"Do you have enough staff to tend to the patients after the Nestia departs?" Devens asked.

"More than enough. I'm going to keep enough nurses here to tend to them, and send the rest back to the Nestia now. If our needs here changes, I'll let you know," replied the medic.

June reminded Devens, "We can shuttle staff back and forth between locations as needed. " Devens nodded in understanding.

"Search and rescue teams, how close are you to being ready for departure?" Devens asked.

"All of our scanners have been installed, and the pamphlet droppers are ready. We are ready to get to it," Tarek Dargon answered with his usual air of swagger.

"And what of the Nestia crew?" she asked June and Inta.

Listening to the other Nestia crew members report over her earpiece as Inta had been broadcasting Devens' exchange over their private network, June replied. "We are good to go, too."

"Excellent," Devens said, looking pleased. "Attention all relief teams; we will depart for the first location within twenty minutes. Please report to your assigned vessels. Devens out."

The derrick and the Nestia quickly became a swarm of activity as personnel jogged to and fro, heading to their assigned locations. Several Silvestrians jogged to the landing pad where the Netherland's short-range flyers were parked and began loading their supplies and chatting with their assigned pilots.

As the group in the hangar discussed last-minute preparations, Tarek's unmistakable combination of jet-black fur and self-assured swagger announced his approach, followed by three Silvestrians on his team. "Ms. Devens, I've already assigned my team members to the Netherlands' short-range flyers. Here's the last of them that will be heading out on the long-range scouting sorties: Tenara Cinlass, Deitra Tabion, and Londo Sarn."

As Tarek introduced them, each gave a sign of acknowledgment: Deitra gave a perky little wave, Tenara nodded her head respectfully, and Londo jerked his chin up slightly with a sour puss frown.

"Excellent," Devens responded. "The Nestia crew have already designated the pilots for the smaller search craft, so let me pair everyone up," she said as she referred to her data tablet. "Mr. Sarn, you'll be flying with Artona the Urarc." The dour Silvestrian looked Artona up and down, and she returned a cool expression. "Ms. Tabion, you're with Mr. Toucuar." The upbeat, calico-colored young Silvestrian gave Ben a big energetic smile, which he returned warmly. "And Ms. Cinlass, you're with Mr. Foucault."

Tenara gave Will a grin. "Don't worry, Will. I won't tell my sister," she playfully jabbed.

Will smiled and gave her an exaggerated roll of the eyes. "You're going to be nothing but trouble, aren't you?" he joked.

"You bet," she said with a wink.

"Okay, you all have your assignments. Let's get out there and find those who need our help, shall we?" Devens said, dismissing them.

The Slivestrians left the group momentarily to retrieve their packs, and while they did so, Inta gathered the Nestia crew before they all dispersed. "I just want to say how proud I am of all of you, and that I love you all. Seeing you all, jumping to the aid of strangers so selflessly, fills my heart more than I can say."

The eclectic collection that was the Nestia crew surrounded Inta and crushed her from all sides in a group hug, each of them professing their love for her in return. "Be safe out there, and if you need me, I'll be right there, okay?"

"Of that, I have no doubt," Will said, emotions running high with him as much as the rest of their odd little family. They took turns giving Inta a peck on the cheek, then headed for their assigned posts in different directions. Devens pulled her communicator off her belt and called over the comms. "Devens to Liddenhouse, come in, Deborah."

"This is Deb, what's up, Boss?" her assistant answered.

"Make sure any anyone that's not staying are headed back to the ship, pronto," Devens said.

"The only ones not staying behind are two others and myself. We're on our way now, about two minutes out," Deborah replied.

"Good. See you in a couple." She clipped the communicator to her belt, and stood by the hangar door, arms crossed, waiting for her stragglers. The hangar had become quiet now as most of the Netherlands machine operators had been shown to their quarters. Staring out into the sky, she watched the blue and gray seabirds ride thermal updrafts on their wide outstretched wings, crying and circling the derrick on the lookout for an easy meal.

She found an odd peace in this moment; the tang of the salt water on the air, the sound of waves gently lapping at the landing platforms, the sun occasionally breaking through the clouds, warming her face. She knew enough to relish these small moments, because the next few days would soon turn into weeks of hard, dirty grind, and there would be little time for rest until the next wave of AAN relief workers would arrive.

Inta quietly walked up from behind and stood beside her, watching the scenery. "Penny for your thoughts," Inta asked.

Devens turned to consider the silver girl standing next to her. "We're headed into a whole bunch of unpleasant business, you realize." Inta nodded her head slowly. "It'll be hell; it's going to be ugly, gruesome and heartbreaking," she said, and Inta could see the lived experience behind Devens' eyes.

"And if we weren't here, it would be that much worse. We're not just bringing help; we're bringing hope, and a start on their long road to recovery. There isn't a higher calling than that." Inta's glowing blue eyes shone with certainty.

Devens nodded, receiving the bolstering message she didn't realize she needed to hear. Though her silver face had no wrinkles, to Devens, there seemed to be old wisdom behind Inta's glowing blue eyes. Any further thoughts of the ship's majordomo were cut short as she spied her assistant, Deborah, walking quickly across the gangway, followed by two others.

When they climbed the ramp to the hangar, Devens asked, "Is this everyone?"

"Yup, just Thomas, Emily, and myself. Everyone else coming returned earlier. There are two doctors and four nurses staying behind to tend to the injured; all are on the mend and in good spirits."

"Very good," Devens replied. "Now, let's get this show on the road," she told Inta.

Inta glanced upward in the direction of the bridge, then back to Devens. "Captain Harding is ramping up the power core as we speak." Then Inta's voice was heard on the public address system and Devens' communicator across all channels. "All craft, this is the Nestia; we are ready for departure. Chief Gideon, requesting permission for departure."

The reply was broadcast across the public address system: "Nesta and all rescue vehicles, you are cleared for takeoff. May the Stars bless you and your mission. Be safe out there."

"Roger, will do. Nestia out." With that, Inta glanced at the hangar doors, and they melted shut against the serene seascape.

"With your permission, I need to check in with Rhen.. I mean the Linyphiidae team leader to make sure she's all set with the supplies in the med bay," Emily said to Devens.

Devens gave her a mildly amused raised eyebrow, seeing through the benign deceit. "Go ahead. I'll be in the command center; check in when you are done.. conferring.. with Dr. Teanoda."

Emily gave her a sheepish look, realizing that Devens saw through her thin charade. "Thanks," she replied gratefully, then walked quickly to the lift, almost at a jog.

"Come along, you two. I want to have one more review of the terrain around our first location, Spearden, before we arrive." Then, with Deb and Thomas in tow, Devens also headed to the lift.

Inta was left alone in the hangar. As she stood there inspecting all the equipment and supplies brought on board to ensure their security for the flight, she also turned her attention outside the ship.

Will, Artona, and Ben had all readied their pods with their new search and rescue partners and were waiting for the Nestia to lift off and take point. The dozen, dart-like, short-range flyers, their orange and white paint faded with age and use, sat with their engines idling high, ready for take off.

Silver coloring swept across the gleaming white hull of the Nestia, and she slowly lifted off, rising gracefully into the sky. June retracted the landing legs and wheeled her around, pointing her nose in a westerly direction. Moments later, the pods flashed to silver and lifted off, forming up along either side of the larger vessel.

The engines of the Netherlands' flyers roared as they lifted off, forming up behind. The Nestia and the pods then accelerated to the flyer's max cruising speed, and they all streaked westward across the sky.

From an office window, Gideon watched quietly, sipping some burnt coffee, as the small armada of ships shrank into the distance until they dipped below the horizon. She turned from the window, and a sudden weariness she had been holding at bay finally gripped her. She took a deep sigh, put her coffee on the corner of her desk, and then pressed a comms button on her desktop communicator. "Jyn, wake me in two hours," she ordered.

"Aye, Chief. Get some rest; I've got things for now," came the low, gravelly reply.

Dropping heavily on the old couch she kept in her office for just such a purpose, she rolled over, pulled the knit blanket off the back of the couch over her, and fell into the first restful sleep she'd had in several weeks.

****

Disgruntled, Hiraefan Claec brushed a drop of water from his greasy forehead that dripped from the moisture gathering on the cold metal ceiling. He and three of his most trusted men discussed strategy over a poorly drawn map of the city and surrounding area.

"I'm telling you, they're not going to land again in the Seaside neighborhood; everyone there is already dead!" Jake, the largest man around the table, yelled, slamming his fist into the table. "Tell 'em, Raef."

"Jake's right, Joey," Claec confirmed, as Joey gave Jake a poisonous look. "They've spent a lot of time there early on, and are moving their searches west." Claec pointed to a line drawn at the outer western edges of the city. "Their search grid's been west of the Markets for the last couple of days. That's where we are going grab it."

Claec turned to the scrawny man to his left, who had thus far been silent. "And you're sure, Sam, that you've got the flyer?" he said darkly, the vaguest hint of a threat in his voice.

"Sh- sh- sure do, Raef," Sam said with the stutter that had plagued him his whole life. "Th- th- they're flying Andressi Darts; sh- sh- short range, can carry five people, if overloaded, with a f- f- full guidance package. It'll have their base of operation clearly marked."

Raef leaned back and reflected for a moment on the plan, then let his mind wander a moment, thinking about how drastically his fortunes changed in the chaos they found themselves in, rising from his previous shit existence to the most powerful man in what was left of the city.

These were the only three people that Raef even remotely trusted, if you could call it trust, in the whole world. When he finished his two-year sentence and got out of prison six months ago, the very first thing he did was come back down into the god-forsaken belly of the city, deep in the sewer and utility tunnels, to reclaim what was his. If the authorities knew half of the despicable and depraved acts he'd committed during his miserable life, they never would have let him out.

Hank, his previous second in command, had decided to take over as boss of their crew in Raef's absence; after a brief and bloody altercation, Raef slit his throat and reminded the others who was still in charge, and they quickly fell in line. It was a small crew, but it was his, and no one was going to take what was his.

For the next couple of months, they struggled to get by, with only a couple of scores of minor larceny, to fill their coffers and bellies. Whatever had caused the disaster turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to them; they had been lying low in their hideout, plotting their next score, when the water leveled everything topside.

The emergency systems automatically locked down the mechanisms and utilities under the street level that powered the city, sealing Raef and his crew in the forgotten corner he had claimed as his. It took two days for the water to mostly drain out of the tunnels below the city and another day after that for Sam to override the door seals. When the four of them finally found an unblocked passage to the surface, the magnitude of the destruction shook even their cold hearts.

Everything was wrecked; the destruction around them appeared utterly complete. Raef quickly realized that the old world with those polite well-to-do fuckers, their rules, laws, and social conventions, was as dead as the corpse of the city he now stood in.

But he had learned a long time ago that in chaos was opportunity, if you had the balls to go for it, and the stomach to do what was necessary. And on the thought of stomachs, he realized that he'd only eaten half a protein bar in the last three days.

Food and water were going to be an issue; you needed to be strong to fight. They were at the cusp of autumn, and keeping warm would soon be a priority. The nights were already cool, and the daytime was rapidly following suit.

Deep in thought, he looked into the overcast sky, watching birds circle over something in the distance.

"Sam, that water cistern near our place in the tunnel, was it intact?" Raef asked.

"S- s- seemed so," Sam stuttered.

"Good. I want you to go make sure. While you're at it, check out that old walk-in cooler a little ways down the tunnel from our place, under the old hotel. See if you can get it running again. We're going to need it." Jake recognized the look of gears turning in Raef's mind as he scratched his chin, contemplating their next move.

"I- I- it'll need a power supply," Sam observed.

"Jake, while Sam is fucking with that cooler, go find something to run it. A rad-battery, anything that could be used for power."

"You got it, Raef," Jake replied, trusting whatever plan he was concocting.

"While you two are working on that, Joey and I are going to go see what we're able to find for food." They quickly agreed and left to execute their tasks.

When they were alone, Joey asked, "So we're going to try to pick through the rubble, looking for a grocery store, or what?"

Raef shook his head. "No, we're going hunting," he replied, sliding his long knife blade half out of its sheath. Joey's face stretched into that feral, deranged smile that always sat crookedly on his face when Raef asked him to do a particularly nasty task.

Joey was a piece of work. He truly enjoyed the uglier aspects of their 'line of work', which was exactly why Raef kept him around. Joey delighted in the dirty jobs, slowly peeling the skin from a bookie to get him to tell them the combo for his safe, or slaughtering a storekeeper and his family for not paying their protection money. It was all the same to Joey; he reveled in the torment of others.

"Come on, let's go," Raef said with a jerk of his head in the direction he'd seen the birds. They scrambled over the piles of wet wreckage for about forty minutes until they heard moans of pain and the sounds of desperate scratching and digging in the distance.

They quietly followed the sound until they spotted a dirty and disheveled man with his back to them. Using a short piece of bent rebar, he frantically scratched at a large chunk of fallen concrete. Beneath it, a mud-caked woman lay sobbing in pain, one of her legs crushed by the debris.

"Hang on! Stay with me Penelope, I'll get you out!" the man told her, working the rebar under the concrete, looking for a leverage point. Raef stepped out from behind a pile of wreckage, Joey slinking along, close behind.

"Hey, Friend, need some help?" Raef called over to the man, his voice honeyed and full of fake concern.

The man, who had not managed to make any headway freeing the woman he clearly cared for, stood upright with a jolt and then misplaced relief. "Oh, thank god. Yes, please, help us! She's pinned and I can't get her out from under it!" He begged, frantic to help her.

Raef gave Joey a quick side glance, sharing an unspoken understanding. "Here, let me help," Raef said as he wrenched another short piece of rebar from the rubble, and stood next to the man, placing it next to his, ready to attempt to lever the concrete. The man smiled gratefully, wiping the tears from his dirty face.

"Okay, ready?" he asked. The man nodded. "On three. One, two..." but before Raef could say three, Joey grabbed the man's chin from behind, then jerked his head back while slicing a large gash across his throat, ear to ear, all while wearing a twisted grin of glee.

Blood pulsed from the gash in the man's neck as he continued to gurgle for breath, spraying the ground and splashing across the face of the woman pinned beneath the concrete. She let out a single scream of horror before Raef swiftly swung the rebar down, crushing her skull and silencing her. Both bodies twitched for a few more moments before going still.

"Joey, field dress the 'antelope' we just killed," Raef said, wiping the bits of skull and brain matter from his boots. "Make sure not to waste any meat."

Joey's empty stomach growled, and at the same time, his face lit up in twisted delight as he reversed the grip of his knife in his hand and knelt to begin his gruesome work. "And let's keep the providence of our banquet between the two of us, yes?" Already elbows deep in blood, Joey nodded.

Raef took a few steps away, looking into the sky, feeling every bit at this moment like a king ascendant, about to take his rightful place over this broken world.

The next day, when he and his three men charged into the only surviving police station precinct, they caught a detective and desk jockey by surprise, the only lucky two who survived the cataclysm. The detective had been badly injured, and the desk jockey was a rookie; they easily overpowered and killed them.

The name Hiraefan Claec was not unknown in the shady circles he traveled, and when Raef unlocked cells in the precinct, the incarcerated criminals quickly agreed to follow. They liberated weapons from the armory, and Sam found a rad-battery backup power supply in the basement. Things were lining up for the newly minted warlord. With his numbers now swelled, he turned his attention outward.

Claec's men swept the devastated city, gathering up everything useful: food, supplies, and tools. When they found other survivors, he told them saccharine lies: that they would have food and safety, he would 'protect' them from the bandits coming any minute, and he would help them find their missing families.

Most were so shell-shocked that they ignored the uneasy feeling in the pit of their stomachs and went with Raef and his men willingly; he let Joey handle those who refused.

A few days after the waters receded, one of his men spotted flyers over the city looking for survivors. He instructed his men to watch them but stay hidden; they represented a return of civil society.

"If the people who sent those flyers start to reassert the 'old ways', you'll all be back in prison," he told his new followers, stirring their ire and hatred for a system that had deposited them at the bottom of the heap. "You don't want that, do you?" he asked, already knowing their answer.

It wasn't until Sam mentioned that they were flying in from off shore, and must have supplies and equipment, that Raef began to formulate a plan for the expansion of his dominion. If he wanted to control more than what was left of a shit-pile city, he would need resources, and these flyers seemed to be coming from somewhere that had them.

Raef had his men watch their movements for a couple of days, plotting where they had been and where they would likely go.

Another drip of moisture from the ceiling shook him from his reverie, bringing him back to the present. He jabbed his finger onto the map on several spots. "No, I want three teams, here, here, and here." Jake, Joey, and Sam read Raef's expression. The decision had been made, and no further argument would be tolerated, so they agreed.

"Alright, then. Let's move." They left their dank command center and gathered the men they needed to pull this off.

"I- i- it's just like old times, getting ready to knock over a convenience store or something," Sam stuttered, reminiscing.

"Except when we pull this off," Raef explained, "we will be kings of this shit hole." They gathered the men and explained the plan, and being used to the 'eat or be eaten' world, grinned wickedly. Soon, they split into teams and headed to their positions to lie in waiting, ready to ambush the next flyer.

Raef sent one man out alone to lie on a pile of debris as bait while he and three other teams waited in the surrounding area, hidden out of sight. After several hours, the familiar roar of engines overhead in the distance could be heard approaching.

"Get ready," Raef said to the mean-looking brute standing next to him. But as the aircraft approached, he spotted something odd. This time it wasn't just one flyer, it seemed to be a whole formation of them. And more alarming, at the vanguard were several small silver craft and a silver large ship of an odd design, at least three hundred meters long.

"Shit, they must have received reinforcements," Raef cursed under his breath. He grabbed the nearest man by the collar, "Send runners to the others, tell them to stand down. Situation's changed. Get the bait under cover." The man stood looking at him confused, momentarily, until he shouted, "Fuckin' MOVE!" Startled into action, the man jogged off and did as instructed.

Raef watched as the silver vessels flew overhead and accelerated westward, generating a sonic boom as they suddenly jumped into supersonic flight. The Darts, however, peeled off and began flying a grid pattern, as they usually did, but this time beams of green light swept the ground beneath them.

"They've got new sensors!" Raef hissed. "Probably ground penetrating. Avoid them, don't be seen. We need to head back and rethink our next move." His men quickly followed his instructions and slunk unseen back into the tunnels.

"Fuck!" he cursed to himself as he lingered, watching his plan fall apart, and the flyers sweep the city in the distance. His anger grew as he stood there, feeling everything he had built in such a short time, slipping through his fingers.

A gust of cool wind blew, and what seemed to be confetti fluttered down from the sky, dropped by the passing aircraft. One feathered down close to him, and he bent down to pick it up. Printing covered both the front and back of the sheet of weatherproof material.

He scanned it, his eyes narrowed, and then they went wide in surprise. Reading carefully a second time, a cruel smile crept across his face. This was perfect, an even better opportunity just waiting to be seized. His mind was already turning to what he would need to pull this off as he turned and headed back to his stronghold to give his men the good news.

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*Author's Note*

Please check my Bio for the story update schedule.

Be good to each other,

T