Prologue: Catalyst Part 1/2
--
"Systems?"
Regis calls out inquisitively, walking through a sliding door and taking a seat in the chair affixed to the middle of the room, leaning back and glancing out the front view screen, observing a station far in the distance, the long-reaching arms of it's port encompassing a Federation cruiser and frigate, orbiting a gas giant in a secluded corner of this part of the galaxy.
An Ensign speaks up from their station, tucked into the side of the room, she replies while monitoring readings.
"All systems green, cloak functioning at optimal parameters, only a 2% coverage margin of error." She affirms, underlining a hiccup in the cloaking system, which Regis doesn't appear happy with.
"Looks like that'll have to do, hope no one looks out a window. Even if it is one of our's, orders are to keep our cover until docked." He nods, looking to his left wrist and tapping the touch screen apparatus affixed to it, paging the engineering section, getting a quick answer as Regis is put directly through the intercom to the room.
"Akton, report." He requests, commandingly, a voice coming from his wrist comm: a chief engineer, pressing a button affixed to the wall to communicate back.
"Sorry sir, minimal navigational thrusters only. Rather not risk diverting power, might break the cloak, among other things... while I try to figure this overly complicated Engi-borne reactor out. All-in-all, pretty damn good engineering, the Nesasio certainly is a beaut', even if it is a pain to work with." Akton informs Captain Regis some insight into the power systems, confirming once again the fragility of the power distributor.
"Why they give me these kind of assignments, I haven't the faintest." He laments, shaking his head briefly, replying to Akton once more. "Inform me of any changes." He closes the communication to his wrist unit, resting his head in his palm, leaning to the side of his captain's chair.
"Helm." He calls out to the pilot at the forefront of the room, surrounded by video screens in a half circle, an optimal setup for piloting the ship with remote cameras affixed to the port, starboard, and fore hull plating for spatial awareness.
"ETA ten minutes, we're docking at bay six." The helmsman, Rook, places a headset on his head and listens to background radiation, attempting to gauge the level of communication activity. "... Sir." Rook listens again, hearing next to nothing, alerting the Captain.
"What is it?" Regis asks, sitting back upward to listen.
"Not picking up any comm activity." Rook reports, to no visible reaction from Regis.
"That's to be expected, it was a communication from Intelligence, we're to stay radio silent and be debriefed inside." Regis reminds those in the room of the instructions sent to them, but is interrupted by Rook.
"No sir, I don't mean that. I mean I don't hear any comm activity. In, or out, from the shipyard. I'm not seeing any ship movement from our position either." He explains, cupping one half of the headset to his ear, listening to the fluctuations in the magnetic spectrum, a lowkey way to gauge local communication activity without intercepting specific messages or arousing suspicion.
"Hm." Regis pauses, looking to the left side of bridge, addressing the other personnel in the room. "Initiate a passive scan. Used to seeing transports come through here, didn't see any ships at the jump beacon either."
Suspicions mounting, Regis waits for the scan to commence, hearing a faint electronic whine while the personnel at the sensors console read the information being displayed on their view screen.
"Scan complete." One ensign at the sensor console reports, continuing after a brief pause. "Reading no outbound activity from the station, or the ships docked in their ports."
His console abruptly beeps with a yellow light illuminating from a button, turning his attention to the Captain.
"Sir, outbound communication, all channels. It's from the station, but it's very weak." The ensign confirms this, awaiting instructions, which Regis aptly gives.
"Patch it through." He nods, listening to a highly static-filled sound come from the intercom, slightly wincing while the volume auto-adjusts.
"Keep--KRRRRRZZZZTTTT stat--KRRRRRZZZZT--" The intercom erupts with static, receiving poor reception and unable to differentiate a signal from background radiation.
"Boost the signal." He orders, the signal becoming slightly more clear as an ensign boosts pattern recognition, a voice finally more legible as it speaks out from the static.
"Communic--KRRRRZZZZZT-- damaged and-- KRRRRZZZTTT--false--KRRRRZZZZT-- all personnel in proximity are ordered to--KRRRRZZZZZT-- keep clear from the station--KRRRZZZZT-- IT'S CUTTING THROUGH THE--" The communication abruptly cuts off with the sound of metal tearing, reading only static.
"What the--"
Regis comments, his attention grabbed as the crew watch a part of the station decompartmentalize and a single deck along the forefront break apart, small debris suddenly shooting out from the windows and exposing the interior to space. Regis stands up, shouting.
"It's a trap!" He points to Rook, ordering. "Get us out of here!"
Rook nods, navigating thrusters to turn the Nesasio to the side, the same ensign at the sensors speaks up once more.
"Reading a power signature." He informs Regis, who asks something back.
"From the station?" Regis asks, walking to the console beside the ensign, reading the information he's about to put out.
"No sir, it appears to be coming from..." The ensign looks surprised, pressing a button on the side of the screen, switching to a visual of the station, him and Regis spotting a giant grey and metal mass attached to a large hole in the plating, debris scattered and floating around.
"Rebel scout ship, it's automated. Keep on alert, it hasn't picked up our signature yet, we may be able to slip away. I don't think it was expecting our arrival." The captain orders, returning to his seat, keeping an eye on it on the view screen, it appearing like it's siphoning or simply drilling into the hull of the unarmed station.
The ensign's console beeps again, him speaking up.
"Sir, another communication, from another part of the station. It's using Federal Intelligence codes, but it's coming from the lower maintenance deck."
"....." Regis pauses once again, considering it, finally. "Put it through."
The ensign nods, patching the audio through the intercom.
"We are under attack, repeat, we are under attack!! Is anyone out there??" A panicked voice yells from the comm, Regis motioning to the ensign to patch their end through, a brief audio glitch briefly emitting as they're on the comm now.
"This is a restricted channel, identify yourself." Regis commandingly requests, them all too eager to speak regardless.
"We.. we work in maintenance, w-we don't see you, where are you? You have to help us! That thing outside disabled the cruiser and frigate ships remotely, and it keeps drilling into the station, trying to vent us out!" The man sounds panicked, the background audio filled with various other voices and panicked murmurs, appearing to be civilian personnel caught below deck.
"I repeat: How are you on this channel?" Regis requests, again, sternly, the people on the other end hesitate before eventually replying.
"We.. we took this guy's wrist communicator, he was killed during a decompression on Deck 2, we couldn't get up-top to communications so we--"
The panicked man is interrupted by the sound of metal grating and bending, Regis looking to the automated scout through the rear camera, it decoupling from the station and moving downward, clamping down onto a lower part of the station and press it's metallic appendages into the windows to force open a section of the hull.
"I-I think it knows we're here! Please, help us! " The civilian engineer yells.
The voices in the background yell and plead in a similar fashion for help, desperate for assistance.
Rook, the helmsman, comments; detailing an option.
"It doesn't know we're here sir, we could do a surprise strafing run, grab it's attention away from the station and cloak." He suggests, meanwhile the lieutenant at the cloaking station looks over, giving her opinion as well.
"Sir, we don't have shields, and minimal navigation. We don't know it's armament either, and if we decloak just to scan it, it's going to come straight at us." She makes clear some consequences, Rook replies confrontationally back at her, interpreting that as compliance to willfully ignore their still active pleas for help.
"Well it's not like we're going to leave them to die!" He calls out to Cass, who has choice words to retort in return.
"We're in a prototype vessel! The Nesasio is not made for combat, and those auto-scouts don't take prisoners, they'll--" Cass attempts to reason, interrupted suddenly.
"Quiet." Regis commands, yelling to them both to cut their bickering, his attention once again being grabbed by an ensign by the sensors.
"Sir, it's charging weapons." The ensign reports.
"Has it detected us?" Regis asks, immediately replied to.
"Can't tell from this range, it may be aiming a barrage at the station, detecting the reactor is still active."
Regis places his face on his hand once more, tallying the options placed in front of him.
"....."
He thinks for a solid minute before someone speaks up, unknown to him who it is, in his trance of decision.
"Sir?"
Regis shakes his head, standing up from his seat with a determined expression.
"All hands, battle stations! Bring the ship around, standby to decloak and get a weapons lock. We're going to hit the scout and draw it away from the station. Ensign, work on getting a distress call out to the nearby system." He taps a button on his wrist communicator, picked up immediately by the chief engineer in the back of the ship.
"Engineering, get ready to stress some systems, we're in for a fight."
"Trial under fire huh? Just my luck." The Akton happily comments, cutting off communications, a noticeable change in speed expediating the turn radius of the ship, lining them up. Regis holds his hand up in the air as their ship rapidly approaches the scout, lining up a shot.
"On my signal." Regis orders, keeping his hand held up with an open palm, the ship careening at high speeds toward the scout.
"......" A quick moment passes, tension rising as they approach, heart rates increasing as sensors read them approaching from within 2 kilometers.
"NOW!" He balls his hand into a fist, signaling to Cass and Rook to disengage and engage their own independent stations.
The cloaking system disengages, bathing the ship in a bright show of blue and white energy briefly before it dissipates, the ship and it's power signature now visible, weapons charging slowly but surely.
The scout reacts subtly, the red light by it's main sensor humming then suddenly detecting their ship's presence, quickly decoupling from the station and engaging it's maneuvering thrusters from beneath itself. It slowly turns in their ship's direction, obtaining a weapon lock and aligning itself correctly, it's own unknown armament charging as well.
"... FIRE!" Regis shouts, a burst laser firing from their starboard hardpoint, unleashing three shots across the fore of the scout, amounting it's outer plating to a cloud of debris and molten slag, exposing it's inner hull and some components to the void of space. The scout rapidly navigates to the side using a quick burst of it's large thrusters, turning one way while the Nesasio turns the other, both moving to outmaneuver the other.
Rook comments, audibly cheerful with the results.
"Looks like it didn't have shields up in time, huh?" He aims at Cass, whom dutifully ignores his comment monitors her station, Rook turning to his as well while an ensign gives a report.
"All three shots hit, moderate damage across it's upper and fore section, hull integrity at 80%." The sensors feedback additional information, the ensign relaying it. "It's shields are up, reading a power spike." He reports, Regis taking the lead.
"Full power to engines and standby to cloak when it's ready, draw it away from the station. Keep us out of range and--" Regis is interrupted by an alert at his own station, he sits to read it, his console saying what the ensign is about to say.
"Jump signatures inbound from the beacon sir." The ensign awaits another scan before saying more.
"Are they our's?" Regis asks, as a flash of light shines brightly from the direction they're headed. Two cruisers jump in from the distance, lining parallel with each other, bearing orange and blue hull plating. Regis shakes his head, unfortunately sated.
"Nevermind, I got my answer! Evasive!" He orders, taking a seat as he feels the ship whip in one direction.
The Nesasio takes a wide turn, attempting to skirt around and dodge any incoming attacks from the scout while approaching the jump beacon, the ensign by the sensors relaying information after another scan.
"The scout isn't moving, still reading a power spike. We may have disabled it." The console beeps frantically, sensors reading laser targeting being pointed at their ship from the scout ship, the ensign yells out loud.
"It's painting us for artillery!"
The cruisers in the distance power up their weapons and Anti-Ship Batteries, aiming flak in their general direction, obtaining a lock remotely from the scout.
"Re-engage the cloak!" Regis orders, a light layer of blue and white overcoming the outermost part of the hull, layering on a complex and refracted image of the background from various angles, hiding the ship's signature, emissions, and visuals from view. The cruisers lose their weapon lock, the scout's pinpointing lasers being refracted from the various angled mirrored armor, confusing it's sensors.
"Cloak engaged... no, reading power fluctuations throughout the ship." Cass reports, them all surprised as they hear the thrusters stutter and resume, Regis reading his console and seeing the power leak from weapons to engines to the cloaking system to back again. Cass chimes in, reporting rapidly.
"Cloak integrity at 90%... 80%... integrity dropping!"
The cloaking system fails, shimmering and dissipating the layer of refracted images across it's hull, turning the ship visible again to sensors. The sensors read out again their ship being realigned to remote lasers, being painted for distant artillery while still out of range for the Rebel cruisers' main guns, a flash of yellow and blue comes from the two cruisers in the distance off their starboard hardpoints.
"Incoming!" Rook warns, maneuvering their ship downward and to the side as a large ball of yellow plasma shoots across their aft section, narrowly avoiding a hit, small fragments of flak impacting across their fore section. Regis obtains automated damage reports on his console, reading minor impacts, the outer-most layer of their cloak emitters damaged and inoperable.
"Let's hope they came from their sector, and not one of our's. Helm, plot a course, evade and try to outmaneuver their artillery. Ensign, prepare a distress call once we jump, we need to warn the Federation, the shipyard in Pleiades is lost."
Rook shuffles in his seat, placing back his headset atop his head and flipping down a visor, focused solely on flying.
One cruiser in the distance continues to fire ASB rounds randomly throughout space in their general direction, unwilling to wait to obtain a lock. The second firing more precise and glancing hits with wide range flak cannons, the crew able to hear multiple small impacts across the hull, slowly whittling down their outer plating as the helm dodges the large ASB shots to avoid heavy damage; the Nesasio incapable of maneuvering away from flak at this close of a distance. The automated scout, previously idle at the station, abruptly attempts to approach their position at full speed, shown on sensors in an attack position.
"Scout coming off our aft, it's weapons are charged." The sensors read out triangular icons, beeping. "Incoming ordnance!" The ensign shouts, Regis talks into his wrist comm, broadcasting to the entirety of the ship.
"ALL HANDS, BRACE FOR IMPACT!" Regis shouts, holding onto his seat as he glances at his console, reading what look like missiles fly within proximity, a sudden shudder resounding throughout the ship.
"Report!" Regis requests, expecting a larger impact, the ensign looking through the ship's readings about to give a status update; suddenly their console streams volatile flickers of electricity, forcing them to back away and stand up from their seat with their face hastily covered. She replies, backing away to see what had impacted before being forcibly ejected from her seat.
"It's a hacking drone! They're--" She's interrupted as lights on the bridge begin to flicker, power being forcibly diverted to secondary systems and away from their main systems, Rook attempting to navigate but unable.
"Thruster output at 0, it's probing our systems, I'm trying to get us moving again." Rook attempts to work through his console screen, eventually moving to manual controls, grasping a physical stick and throttle that slides out and unfolds from underneath his control console. A call comes from engineering, streamed to Regis's wrist comm.
"It's boring through the aft section, it's attempting to disable the ship, we're trying to block access. Standby!" Akton's comm cuts off, Regis and the crewmen forced to wait on them, a solid minute of small hull impacts barrage across the top of the hull before the chief engineer reports back.
"Scrambling with junk data routed through the command lines, but that won't last long. Distributor is being stressed, I recommend we get out of here ASAP." He replies once more.
The lights flicker back on, Rook immediately firing up the thrusters with manual controls and avoiding another collision with an ASB round, continuing his previous route to outmaneuver their constant stream of blind artillery, taking a wide berth and finally navigating around the comparatively slow cruisers, coming within range of the jump beacon.
The ship makes an audible electronic whine, Regis looking to his console and seeing the FTL drive begin to spool up, he speaks to engineering through his comm again, believing them taking initiative.
"Standby to jump on my mark." The captain orders, a hurried response coming from the chief engineer.
"That's not us! The drone has tapped into navigation, it's plotting a course to--KRRRRRRZT--" The communication gets cuts off and scrambled, the ship suddenly turning against Rook's own controls, aiming and calculating a jump toward a sector: A Rebel occupied sector.
"Disable all power to the FTL drive!" Regis orders into his wrist comm, to no response from engineering. "Damn, jammed." The captain looks to Rook, which is still fighting against the automated thrusters with the manual controls, attempting to aim away from it's intended angle.
"Can't... stop it!" Rook continues to struggle, the ship's FTL drive coming closer to being ready to jump, Regis pausing to make another decision.
"....." Regis takes a deep breath, looking to Cass. "Divert all power from cloaking to the FTL drive before the drone can line us up, prepare to initiate a jump on my mark."
Cass looks back from her seat, confused.
"Sir? You want use to jump where they want us to go?" She asks, Regis shaking his head.
"No, we're initiating a blind jump." The captain clarifies, an audible concern from the crew reverberates throughout the bridge, Regis continuing his assessment.
"We can not allow this vessel to be captured. If the Rebels get a hold of this stealth technology, then this war will be one-sided. Picture those scouts with cloaking emitters, raiding outposts and ambushing ships on a massive scale." He nods, affirming it himself.
"Helm, point us to a stellar mass... preferably not in the direction of any stars for us to ram into." The captain orders, knowing a blind jump is an incredibly dangerous journey to undertake, jump beacons being aligned to avoid large and small stellar objects to collide with while in faster-than-light speeds.
Rook shakes his head, complying regardless, reading a blind route and attempting to plot a course out of the way enough to not be followed.
"Reading one stellar mass I can get a fix on, several hundred light years away, the path is between two binary stars from our bearing. This is gonna be tight..." He dutifully reads the information, a small miscalculation meaning they may impact one of the stars just outside the stellar system, or any number of small objects floating through space that they can not see.
Cass remotely diverts power from cloaking to the FTL drive, speeding up the process of it charging from the hacking drone, though unable to divert it back if need be.
"Jump... ready." Cass nervously speaks in an undertone, silently gulping.
Regis looks to the view screen, watching the Rebel cruisers and auto-scout take potshots in their general direction, he breathes out one final time.
"... Engage." Regis sits in his seat, holding onto the arm rests rigidly.
The ship's nose glows with a bright white line encompassing it's way to the aft, emitting a highly audible electronic whine throughout the ship as the FTL spools and prepares to fold space in front of the ship in an instant to initiate a jump. An artificial displacement bubble briefly forms around the ship, the white energy hitting the top of the aft section, it suddenly flashes back to the front of the ship from it's starting point and the ship jumps into speeds faster than light with a hard blur, a cloud of flak and an ASB round making it's way across and missing from their previous position.
The Rebel cruisers navigate around slowly along with the automated scout, coming to the realization that the ship has jumped without use of the jump beacon's coordinate data, the captain onboard a cruiser gives orders upon this information.
"Try to extrapolate their exit trajectory, orders are to capture that vessel, and the shipyard." The Rebel captain orders, personnel from the back of the room asking something.
"Hope you don't expect us to take the same route, sir." One comments, the captain thinking on their input.
"... no." She mutters, sitting back in her captains chair, contemplating with her fingers together.
"... send the trajectory data to the scout."
--
"No, I'm quite fine, thank you."
Octavia politely motions away a caterer with a plate of finger food in their hoof, continuing to walk down the entryway filled with guests all clad in vibrant formal wear, the plaza bustling with wonderous activity while she glances around to spot a mane color that may stand out from the crowd.
'Damn, where is she now?' She ponders, half-listening to the classical music resounding about through the air from a band she spots on stage, sighing happily at this calm night outing.
"They'll be fine without me, right?" She closes her eyes in anticipation, coming out of the woodwork to finally socialize with some of the upper elite Canterlot has to offer, casualy listening to her former troupe on stage and her replacement cellist.
"You kidding?" A voice chimes in, hearing Octavia's whisper to herself, cheerful-sounding.
"You're thinking too small, you'll be beating the best outta the best here!" She wraps her foreleg around Octavia from behind, smiling widely, waiting for a reaction, which she does gives in kind.
"Come now." She gently places a hoof on her friend's chest and nudges her back, attempting to calm her down. "I'm here to socialize and get to know my new ensemble. I'm not here to party, per say."
"Well, alright then." Vinyl shrugs with one arm, still bearing a wide smile. "Come to a party to not party, well what can 'ya do, uh?" She pats her friend's back, acknowledging her dress and tied back mane, while she herself had only dressed in a bowtie and with earbuds attached to a tape strapped to her leg.
"You look great Tavi, looking to find anypony to spend some time with~?" She coos playfully while raising her brow, abandoning the line of dialogue before she can reply with a flick of her hoof, stepping to the side and sweeping the plaza with her foreleg in a wide radius.
"I'll be over... there. I guess." Vinyl speaks unsure, not used to being at high class parties, walking off with a spring in her step none the less and placing her earbuds back in her ears.
Octavia happily sighs, shaking her head with a small smile as she perks one ear to the side, hearing and eavesdropping a familiar voice by a circular desserts table.
"And that's when she said, 'You wouldn't have believed it!'-- " A handsome Pegasus stallion mimics a voice, chatting with a trio of other ponies around him. "--and then, I show up, dressed in torn up clothes, and say 'Oh, I believe it!' " He laughs, the trio laughing alongside him, bouncing off stories and jokes with each other while eating dessert. It appears she had come near the end of the party, hors d'oeuvres well out of the way, including the main course-- a hallmark that she is late.
'Okay... okay.'
She thinks to herself, working herself up to the task at hand, pulling up a shoulder of her dress and fluffing up her mane bun, taking one quick breath in then out again through her nose, walking to the group ready to introduce herself, speaking up once she hears a pause in their chatter.
"I see the festivities are treating you all well this evening." She comments, mostly addressing Sterling, her new group's director and main funder. She walks to the table, taking a sample of what looks like a mini sandwich, taking a delicate-looking bite, awaiting a response.
"Fashionably late as ever, Octi." One of the trio giggles, sipping a drink via levitation magic, Octavia taking a subtle disliking to that variation of a nickname she doesn't like, she coughs.
"Uhm, no, I'm afraid just merely late. Aha." She excuses and casually brushes off the pet peeve of her's, Sterling speaking up for her.
"No need to be so reserved, Tavi." He addresses her, using a nickname she likes. "We're all just getting to know each other before the gig at the next Gala, it's still a ways, so come enjoy the time until then. Practice is next week." He picks up a cup and takes a sip. "You hear about that group of ponies the Princess invited last year? Caused a huge mess."
Octavia rubs her other foreleg with her other leg.
"I do, actually." She recalls the memory, annoyed at the reputation it had briefly caused. "Me and my last ensemble were there. I distinctly remember a highly energetic one prancing on stage and trying to play with us, she actually damaged my cello." Octavia speaks a tad annoyed, remembering she had sent a bill that had yet to be delivered upon.
Sterling shrugs, placing his drink down.
"Well, they were clearly some acquaintances of the Princess, so personally I wouldn't dwell on it." He finishes with some advice, giving Octavia something to think on, muttering to herself silently.
".. oh, yes, erm. Perhaps." She rubs her foreleg again, feeling like she may have overreacted, starting to consider redacting her billing request and instead apologize; not wanting to disgruntle acquaintances with ties to their ruler. Sterling walks with the trio and Octavia towards the balcony out a pair of tall doors, taking in the view of Canterlot from high above in their adorned view, the tidy pockets of the city blooming at night, the reverberation from the many talking ponies inside the main hall of the building reduced to a low hum as the doors close behind them.
"Don't take this the wrong way..." Sterling addresses Octavia, in a way she immediately expects to be taken the wrong way, allowing him to continue while curious herself and onlooked by the trio.
"You are a small-town pony, yes? Where is it you're from?" He asks, having misheard her point of origin when she signed up for their musical group. It appears to take a moment before the question clicks, her replying immediately, sensing the unnecessarily rising tension.
"Of... a sort." She pauses nervously, clearing her throat. "Yes, I'm from Ponyville. Born and raised, though my father was a musician here. I inherited his accent, as you may have noticed, haha." She laughs lowly, unsure of how the reception will be, the conversation flow turning surprisingly well as she hears Sterling laugh cheerfully.
"I've been there, quaint place, it's very... homey?" He tries to pull a more descriptive word. "It's very comfortable is what I mean to say. The community is very interwoven together there, unlike what some may call the 'stuck up' and 'ghastly' parts of our own fair town." He looks up, rolling his eyes with a shake of his head.
"I may actually move there one day, provided I am given the means." Sterling looks to the side, spotting a caterer pony approach with a plate of drinks balanced on a silver platter, he takes one along with the trio. The caterer hands the platter near Octavia, which she finally does accept, chiming in.
"Well... perhaps I can show you around sometime, hm?" She coyly smiles, Sterling amused by the saucy choice of words. He toasts upward, stepping closer.
"I think I'd like that very much." He smiles, meeting her otherwise nervous purple eyes, looking back to the trio around them and raising his hoof with a glass. "Cheers, mates, for this is the beginning of a wonderful start of our careers."
Octavia closes her eyes, raising her glass to clink with the others, all of their attention being grabbed by the sound of extremely rough wind in the sky as the glasses make contact.
"... what the devil?" Sterling asks, them all hearing a piercing wind-like howl up in the sky, as if a thunderstorm were raging, but seeing no dark clouds looming in the sky.
"Did those weather pegasi mess up the schedule again?" One of the trio asks indignantly, the ground beginning to shake, ruling that possibility out as the sky flashes with a bright white light, a shockwave being made as a large crescent triangular object abruptly appears above the clouds, flying above and beginning to drop with one point aimed downward, white and red flames cloaked over one side.
"WHAT IS THAT!?" One of the trio yells, the group quickly backing up and running indoors dropping their glasses, seeing the mass approach from high above and fly threateningly closer, the inside clustered with ponies gazing out the window in panic and with shrill chatter as it flies closer with a looming shadow with it against the moonlight.
--
The Nesasio jumps back into normal space, hurling the crewmen forward and to the side as the ship exits from FTL speed into a lower part of an atmosphere, Rook slamming his head into a monitor only barely shielded with his visor over his eyes.
"GAH! ...NGGGH!" Rook grabs onto his head, pushing himself out from the helm, peeking one eye out as he sees a crack along the screen and feels blood wash down his face, quickly grasping onto the manual controls and observing where they have arrived while initial shock dulls his pain.
"REPORT!!" Regis yells at the top of his lungs, the bridge cloaked in flashing red with sparks flying from control panels, attempting to talk over the many alarms while standing up from his thrown position on the floor on his stomach; the bridge crew frantically trying to relay information.
"Hull integrity twenty percent and dropping! We've--" The ensign at sensors reels back, avoiding a sudden surge of electricity sparking around their console, continuing their hurried report. "We've entered the atmosphere of a planet!! Looks..." She begins to hyperventilate, events happening faster than she can process. "M-Class, ox.. oxygen atmosphere, I-I can't tell much else, sensors are--" A volatile electric current shoots from the console and runs along her arm, coursing through her body as the console explodes from an overcharged capacitor, careening her backwards out of her seat onto the floor on her side, charring one side of her uniform.
Another ensign spots the grisly display, rushing out of his seat to assist her, shaking while knelt beside them, checking their pulse.
"No, no, no!" He says in disbelief, turning over her face to the side, seeing a red burn scar along her head with a smell of rancid burnt flesh, her eyes unmoving and unresponsive with her mouth slightly agape; laying unmoving, killed by a lethal electrical surge.
"Get back in your station, Ensign!" Regis yells, taking his own place back into his captain seat, attempting to work through a damaged console, he looks over again to the ensign knelt beside his dead friend, still and emotional and ultimately dead to his surroundings.
Regi's comm unit comes in full of static, hearing Akton trying to speak over the disruption.
"Captain, the-- KRRRRRZT-- critical, we need to touchdown or-- KRRRRRZZZT -- drive will be spent!" Akton warns, trying to relay more information, but unable over the many damaged systems disrupting the line. Regis looks over to Cass, which has remote readings of the ship displayed on her console as well.
"Report!" Captain Regis yells, seeing her stuck staring at the ensign grieving over his friend, he yells again impatiently and rushed.
"... I SAID 'REPORT' CASSANDRA!!" He screams at her, finally snapping her out of her trance, rushing to skim the information displayed on her station, multiple displays being glitched out or throwing errors, managing to make out the majority of it.
The upper part of the Nesasio's starboard wing lining bursts into flame, the outer heat catching fuel lines leading to small navigational thrusters near the tips, leaking hazardous fuel as plates begin to superheat.
"Heat.. the heat shields have been sheared off from the ship's rapid entry into the stratosphere, the hull is breaking apart, emitters offline indefinitely!" She quickly reads through more, keeping in mind to step away from her console if there is another electrical surge. "Main thrusters offline, navigational and atmospheric thrusters barely functional, we're well within the..." She pauses, reading what she doesn't believe could be correct. "... we're in the atmosphere of an inhabited planet!" She sees miscellaneous readings of energy coming from the planet's surface from the last passive sensor sweep. Rook yells and interrupts her, attempting to regain control and steer the ship back upwards, stuck in the gravity well of the planet.
"We're coming in hot!" He yells, grasping onto the control stick and trying to pull upwards, the ship beginning to enter the troposphere and make contact with clouds. Seeing a glimmer of lights shine from what looks like civilization, Rook turns on his headset mic and broadcasts distress signals in wide spectrum channels with as many translations as possible, warning inhabitants below of their rapid descension as a stall warning sounds from his console, forcing him to aim back downwards toward the surface, the highly audible sound of straining and breaking metal sounding throughout the ship and room around them.
"MAYDAY-MAYDAY, THRUSTERS BENT, CENTURION AND DITCH IS A NO-GO! ENGINES ARE BINGO: DEADSTICK! SPACECRAFT TO AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL, THIS IS FOXTROT-ECHO-DELTA MAKING AN EMERGENCY LANDING!!"
The Nesasio roars through the cloud layer, careening towards what looks like a castle-like structure embedded into the side of a high mountain, Rook attempts to pull up but their angle is too steep, Regis screams as Rook can't decide what direction to pull into.
"ROLL LEFT!!" The captain orders him to steer away from the inhabited buildings, Rook pulling to the left as the starboard wing stresses it's framework, the port winglet crashing into the roof of a stone tower, breaking off a portion of the wing and forcing the ship to steer further left even more away from inhabited buildings and downward away from the mountain. Rook's console continually beeps and honks with more warnings, focused on the proximity warning alarm, saying repeatedly as they fly at high speeds towards the ground.
'Pull up! ... Pull up! ... Pull up!' The automated warning voice continually chimes.
Rook struggles and nearly breaks off the control stick, desperately trying to steer the ship upwards, finally at a more suitable angle as the fore of the ship begins crashing through trees and skimming along groundworks and protruding stone, him aiming for a field but still coming in too steep, spotting a hilltop poking out just above the ground, his eyes wide open as it catches the port wing and the ship abruptly gets yanked and begins to roll.
Regis screams, once more, before the crewmen are rocketed out of their seats at a lethal velocity.
"BRACE FOR IMPACT!!"