Asch'an (Part One)
So, I started writing this thing as sort of a way to pass the time. A pet project, if you will. Not sure how well this'll be received, but if I can get any sort of feedback to make the thing better, if would be muchly appreciated. So, here goes, I guess.
Darkness, illuminated sparsely by a thin beam of light. Exhaling sharply, a young feline hung from his feet, his head in yet another small access panel. Tail flicking in consternation, frustration crossed his feline face. The Mrrshan had been working for the better part of the day, so far as he could tell. "Damned machines." he muttered, "always giving up the ghost when you need them most." It was pitch black, save for the light of his headlamp and diagnostic computer. The power had given out almost a day ago, and taken everything else with it. He could have handled working indefinitely while on the drift, so long as he had power. He was already starting to get cold, beginning to feel it through his fur, biting into his flesh, searing into his very bones!
Cursing himself, he pushed the thought from his head. He was fine. He would be fine, and if he continued to worry like that, he'd slow his work even further. He sighed, pulling out another mass of wires and circuits, sniffing them to determine if they were good or not. "Burned out." he muttered, as he used a multitool to bypass the torched circuits, then reached further in to flip a breaker.
Ruddy light began to fill the ship once more, as the emergency illuminators came back online. The ancient ship was revealed to be exactly what it had seemed before: ancient. Still, for one that was used to the dim, unidirectional beam of the headlamp, any amount of light was welcome. And though the sight was grim, the deteriorated corridors, marred by corrosion and battle-damage over the last how many thousands of years were the only things protecting him from a cold death in the reaches of space. And that counted for something. The Ka'schen stroked his chin, as he looked deeper into the panel, seeking out a data port, anything that would give him information, probing for any sign of any stray erg of power. The answer was the same. The answer was always the same.
The feline cursed as he floated backwards, further into an access panel. Pulling out a couple of probes, he poked around in the confines, searching for any stray erg of power. No gravity, no life support, no heat. But there was no reason to think that the entire ship was without power. The ship had been around for too long, and she was still powered up enough to respond to his comm signals. It couldn't have lasted that long, even if it fissioned its krellium stores. And the computer would not have let the ship be drained that much. Not if it had even the basest of survival programming. "Come on... Come on..." said the cat, his tail twitching in concentration. In his week since he'd managed to put in here... He pushed the thought from his mind. 'They abandoned me because they had to.' he thought, squinting through the maze of wires, and touching yet another probe to what he thought were data lines. The diagnostic screen lit up. "Something?" asked Mukirr, before frowning yet again. "Nothing."
"Have patience." came a voice from beside him. The dulcet tones of a female Kasch'en moved closer, accompanied by a body. Mukirr would have found her attractive, had he not been convinced that she was a hallucination, a product of his sleep and food deprived mind. Her hair was short-cropped, as was the style adopted by females in the navy, and a skintight pressure suit clung to her body, leaving little to the imagination. She was a wonder to the eye.
Mukirr closed his eyes. Maybe if he took a deep breath and relaxed, the woman would disappear. It didn't work. When he opened them again, she was still there, like always. "Patience?" asked Mukirr, incredulously. "I'm locked out of the main systems, life support is damaged, and my fighter hasn't the power to make it out of the bay, much less out of the system." He sighed, "If I even knew where we were."
The female nodded, a smile crossing her face. "You're looking in the wrong place." said the woman. "Try further back, closer to the engineering sections. There should be a main interface there."
Mukirr offered a small grin, completely glazing over the fact that she'd given him useful knowledge. Knowledge that he wouldn't, couldn't know. But the option was better than the one that had faced him earlier. Better than freezing to death. Better than asphyxiation. Hell, even with the life-support offline, he'd have days, maybe even weeks of breathable air, and if he kept to the center of the ship, he'd stay warm. But that would be all for naught if he couldn't move, couldn't control the ship. Picking up his helmet and diagnostic tools, he drifted further aft, in search of a control interface.
Drifting through space not too terribly far from the derelict starship, was another, smaller vessel. Built with a heavy hand, but possessing an almost regal form, the vessel exuded a glory that harkened back to earlier times. The hull was corroded, patterns etched into her battle plate by micrometeoroid impacts, hidden only by the scorch marks that illustrated the many battles that she had seen at one point or another. Slender and compact, with large-bore cannon turrets at even intervals on the hull. Her massive ion drives were the only parts to protrude from the vessel, marring her otherwise smooth lines and looking completely out of place on the warship, thus betraying her history and subsequent re-purposing.
Inside, her bridge was well lit in a ruddy brown, and pipes and conduits traced throughout the room and the entire ship. Dripping condensation, or sometimes the occasional puff of steam, the crew had learned to accept these minor distractions. Indeed, they had come to call the ship home. But even so, Penitence was showing her age, one of the oldest operational vessels in the Asch'an Navy, she performed one of the most important tasks of peacetime: To recover the ancient relics of the Ka'schen empire.
"There she is," remarked Riir, the commander of the vessel, ignoring the dripping water that bounced off his skull. He would have to have an engineer come to repair it, but not yet. "The Sivis." The stocky bear folded his arms across his chest as he regarded the screens, the highly advanced optics providing him with a direct view of the space in front of him. With it, he had an unparalleled view of the ancient Kasch'en vessel, the target of the day. Stroking his black-furred chin, he paced the deck, then with a glance at the sensor operator., he said, "Report, sub-lieutenant."
"She's dead in the water, sir. Just... Silent." the brown-furred ursin replied, his voice tinged with awe. It was the first intact kasch'en starship that he'd ever seen, and it was everything that he'd been told. "Tannith has been gracious."
"Se'her has blessed our mission," replied Riir, his lips curling up in a wicked smile, showing a mouthful of pointed teeth. The operation would be simple; just take the ship, and return to base. Then he would get promoted, and maybe get off of this scrap heap. "Maybe a Grenadier class frigate," he mused under his breath. "I hear that they're automated, and can carry enough firepower to obliterate a Cyran cruiser."
"Sir?" asked the sensor operator.
"Nothing. Helm, what's their heading?"
The helmsman tapped a few controls, toggling a few switches. With the grinding of gears and clattering of relays, clockwork mechanisms were thrown into operation, as other programmable solid-state computers below-decks began to calculate range, speed, heading. To be sure, the clockwork mechanisms were not as advanced or as powerful as some of the technologies in use by the other races, other empires, but they did not lie. And for these simplistic calculations, they operated more than well enough. "Range, 10 light-seconds, speed, .06c, Relative heading 000 mark 270. She's ballistic, and heading towards the primary."
"She's not responding to our hails. Not even an automated response." came the call from the communications board. "She's transmitting an IFF on a subspace superheterodyne tachyon pulse, though." he whistled. "I haven't seen anything like that in ages. Not since my academy days."
"Ensign," Riir admonished, "Restrain yourself." But the ensign had a point. That type of communication had been phased out centuries ago. They were simple, and could convey very little information, even the most advanced ones could just barely transmit voice. They were made by children as science projects, or used as emergency communicators on backwater colonies. They had range as long as enough power was pumped through them. For the Sivis to make use of this as a primary method of communication... Maybe she wasn't as advanced as sources would have them believe.