This is something I started a long while ago and kind of... didn't do. It's the story that surrounds First Impressions, so the events of that will occur in this thread, but I'm not sure yet if I'll be editing or adding to them in anyway. I probably won't get this updated for ages, it's really hard to write epic space-ship-battle-ness when you have no idea what you're doing.

~

Rochester squinted against the blinding flash of red light and made his way to the Captain's quarters. The emergency lighting cast the ship in an array of dull crimson and near black; in a way it made their predicament seem much, much worse.

"Sir?" Captain Gorse waved him in, but stayed seated. "I have the reports from Engineering," Gorse looked at him and sighed. "Two of the four engines are damaged, not irreparable, but Kairan has told me that her team cannot do those repairs outside of a dock. Currently-"

"How are we on life support?" Captain Gorse interrupted with a distinct nonchalance and bounced his chair slightly. Rochester cleared his throat as Gorse swung his feet to rest on the desk. It was not unusual for his captain to be so relaxed, even in the face of an uncertain death, but still it made him feel uncomfortable.

"Kairan tells me we have a couple of weeks left, however if anything catches fire again we will have problems." Rochester watched with an uneasy eye as Gores poured himself a glass of unknown amber liquid.

"Again?" Gorse took a sip and grimaced, putting the glass to one side. He folded his hands across his stomach and finally seemed to be interested. The chair bounced slightly as Gorse mulled over the information. He could have also have been considering the drink, it was often hard to tell.

"Yes, Captain," Rochester cleared his throat. "But the removable flammable items have been removed from areas where they are likely to catch fire." He scrolled through the dataslide in an attempt to find the detailed list of items.

"And put together in a room?"

"...yes." Rochester looked up from the slide, suddenly aware how bad that had sounded. There were occasions when putting highly flammable substances in a pressurized container was a good idea, and this was not one of them.

"Are any of them important?" Gorse sighed and shifted further down into his chair.

"Not really, sir, hence why we could remove them."

"Jettison them into space. I don't want anything blowing up my ship from the inside," Rochester nodded and stowed the data slide, pulling out an old-style communicator. Gorse looked at it with mild curiosity. Rochester shrugged as he put the communicator to his ear, waiting for a response; in a moment, he had passed the command to Chief Engineer Kairan. "Anything else?"

"We have already alerted our nearest port as to our condition, however there are not any tugs in our immediate area." Rochester stifled an exasperated sigh.

"Blast it. It's not as if we're high up on the priority list." Although the Supreme Deliverance was not carrying troops or weapons their mission was still of some importance and there would be some political fallout if they did not succeed. Of course, Gorse and Rochester both knew that unless the civilians somehow magically turned into force sensitives, they might as well have been taking soil supplies to a dirt planet.

"Do you want the status on our cargo, sir?" Several thousand blankets, food rations, some toys for the noble children... Rochester rattled the list off in his head.

"Has it all turned into brandy and twi'lek girls?"

"No, sir... no it did not."

"Come back to me when it does, until then... let's just try not to fall apart and die." Gorse rubbed a hand through his beard and then across his face, sighing. He threw back the last of the foul alcohol in a single gulp.

"Very well, sir."

Allow me to talk about how happy this thread makes me in caps lock.

Rochester and Broan thread?

OMG SQUEE!!

"Do you want the status on our cargo, sir?" <snip>

 

"Has it all turned into brandy and twi'lek girls?"

 

"No, sir... no it did not."

 

"Come back to me when it does, until then... let's just try not to fall apart and die."

I probably shouldn't like Captain Gorse's school of emergency management so much, but I do.

I am beyond delighted that you've started posting this, Tatile.

This is made of terrible.

~

Shala Kairan kicked the console, cursing as she injured her foot. At least it was not on fire, yet. Behind her various junior engineers and petty officers rushed about, picking up bits of scrap metal and shoving wiring back into cabinets. The numbers flicking up before her were not what she wanted to see. The system seemed to be telling her that the remaining engines were reaching zero Kelvin, which was quite impossible as she was sweating buckets. There were also the impossibilities of physics in general which would prevent the engines from going so low, but such things were a given when working with malfunctioning equipment. In desperation, she punched a few buttons and, for a moment, the display flickered into reason.

"Not good."

#

"We have two working engines remaining, but there is a problem," Chief Engineer Kairan shifted uncomfortably; acutely aware of the scrutiny she was under. It would have been much easier to stay in the engines rooms, where she would not have to look anyone in the face. "The first two - the damaged two - are having significant negative effects on our systems."

"Other than being damaged?" Torbette raised an eyebrow, but otherwise stayed in a perfect parade rest. The security chief enjoyed teasing her no end.

"Yes. They are throwing out numbers and errors that are supposed to be physically impossible and it's going to crash our on-board engine management if we don't do something about it soon." Kairan balled her fists, keeping them behind her back. Now was not the time to entertain Torbette's attacks.

"May I ask why they have not crashed yet, considering they've been damaged for two standard days?" Lieutenant Windthorpe was as impeccably dressed as usual - not a stray hair or wrinkle on his uniform. The man believed in maintaining standards no matter the circumstance. He certainly stood at odds with Torbette, whose uniform had recently stopped smouldering and Kairan, who was still slick with sweat.

"I have a team working on constantly re-adjusting the numbers," Kairan pinched the bridge of her nose and stifled an exasperated sigh. "But it's becoming an almost impossible task."

"Suggestions, then?" Captain Gorse remained calm, possibly even cheery. Whether or not he was aware of the tension between his officers was a topic of much debate, but he was rather adept at redirecting their energies.

"We could jettison the damaged engines - it will sort out my system issues and possibly give us a boost in movement."

"We're becalmed in the middle of semi-hostile territory and you are suggesting halving our engines?" Lieutenant Windthorpe produced a small dataslide, preparing to rattle of the numbers that would describe their predicament in exacting, and excruciating, detail.

"Yes. I know it sounds strange-"

"-sounds pretty stupid" Torbette interjected, with little emotion to her voice.

"-strange," Kairan strained the word and shot Torbette a glare. "But it could work. The Imperial College of Engineering designed the specific engines in this class of ship to detonate when they leave a certain perimeter of the home ship." Thankfully, Captain Gorse nodded at this, at least able to confirm that the Supreme Deliverance still possessed her original engines.

"When did explosions in space become a good thing?" Torbette sounded almost morbidly amused by the idea.

"When we could use that shock wave to give us some much needed forward thrust, yes," Looks of mild, blank horror greeted this statement - a silent screaming in the eyes was often all the indication of disagreement one could get from Imperial officers. "As the Lieutenant said, we're becalmed out here."

With one hand held against his mouth, Windthorpe simply stared at Kairan. He was very close to openly dismissing his previous statement and was already wondering if he had any information to support such a change.

"You want to ride the shock wave? Shala, that's insane."

"I must say, Captain, I've never heard of that tactic before; at least not in the Imperial navy."

"It's not been done before in the Imperial navy, I'll admit-" Kairan shrugged a little. She did not like where this was going, but perhaps she owed her fellow officers the truth.

"The Republic, then?" Windthorpe had always been good at pressing Kairan for information and he usually succeeded.

"No, but the theory itself is sound." Being very hesitant to admit that this was an entirely untested theory, not even of her own making, Kairan made sure to put emphasis on her confidence, rather than her actual words.

"Theory?" For the first time, the Lieutenant allowed some emotion to crack into his voice. "This has never actually been attempted before, Chief Engineer Kairan? Where did you even come up with this idea?"

"Well, I saw it in a holodrama a few years ago, but-BUT- I did do some calculations and it could be possible!" She paused for a moment, before suddenly going red in the face. "And don't talk down to me, Windthorpe; we're all the same rank here!"

Captain Gorse smiled slightly and leant back in his chair. "You are all of the same rank, and all of you are under me. So," He opened a drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle and four glasses. "Security Chief Torbette, Lieutenant Windthorpe, do you have any reasonable suggestions as to what else we could do to overcome our current predicament?"

"No, sir."

"No, sir."

He nodded and poured himself a glass of whiskey. "Chief Engineer Kairan, what exactly are our options here, as you know them?" With that, Captain Gorse set the rule: there would be no more bickering and Emperor help whoever decided to start.

"Well Captain, if we don't act soon on our lack of motion it is likely that we will just starve to death." Emboldened by her Captain's support, Kairan at least began to feel as positive about her plan as she looked. She would require much of her crew to prepare the engines and systems, but for the actual drop..? She would need to speak to Sara --, her second. The chance of something going disastrously wrong was quite high; they would have to find ways to minimize the risk.

"We have several months worth of supplies, Captain, food isn't exactly an issue. I am more concerned about the recycled air in our life-support." Lieutenant Windthorpe produced another datapad, tapping the screen that showed their supply levels.

"Well, yes, asphyxiation will occur long before starvation." Kairan conceded, feeling a little nervous at the admission.

"Are you just trying to avoid telling us about the exploding death?" Torbette folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow.

"Malina, while there is a chance we die horribly in an explosion, it's significantly less than waiting out here while we slowly suffocate." There was a certainty in all things, Karain had discovered, especially in events where the choices were dying quickly or waiting for the end. Almost everyone she had met preferred to die quickly, especially when there was the chance that the death might not happen.

"It's a fifty-percent chance, isn't it?" Captain Gorse asked.

"I...uh... yes, sir."

#

As Lieutenant Windthorpe left the Captain's office, Torbette pulled him aside, away from the prying eyes and ears of the crew. Her two-handed cannon was slung over one shoulder, making her attempt at casually leaning against the wall somewhat impossible.

"So," Torbette crossed her arms and put on her usual air of dismissal. "You think this will actually work?"

Rochester rolled his shoulder to loosen the building tension. He met Malina's eye with a hard stare and she tilted her chin up in response.

"Given the numbers, we should be able to get a good push," He put an emphasis on 'should' and a little of Malina's confidence dropped. "I will have to make sure our pilots are prepared for this. I'm sure you can understand; it won't help much if we start going in the wrong direction."

"Oh, I understand perfectly, Ell-tee," Rochester tried not to roll his eyes. "Just wanted to make sure you thought this could work."

"Considering the alternative is suffocating in a tin can in the middle of nowhere, watching my friends and colleagues die around me, yes, I do hope this works." He snapped at the end of the sentence and his shoulders began to ache.

"Need a stiff drink before our quick, horrible, burning death?" Malina patted his shoulder gently.

"More than anything."

"Other than being damaged?" Torbette raised an eyebrow, but otherwise stayed in a perfect parade rest. The security chief enjoyed teasing her no end.

 

"Yes. They are throwing out numbers and errors that are supposed to be physically impossible and it's going to crash our on-board engine management if we don't do something about it soon." Kairan balled her fists, keeping them behind her back. Now was not the time to entertain Torbette's attacks.

 

"May I ask why they have not crashed yet, considering they've been damaged for two standard days?" Lieutenant Windthorpe was as impeccably dressed as usual - not a stray hair or wrinkle on his uniform. The man believed in maintaining standards no matter the circumstance. He certainly stood at odds with Torbette, whose uniform had recently stopped smouldering and Kairan, who was still slick with sweat.

You have an enviable knack for painting the scene, and remembering to do it both visually and social-dynamically, without going overboard on the word count.

How heavily modded (if he is at all) is our Lieutenant at this point in the timeline?

This is Rochester with all the cybernetics he'll never want: skull clamps that give back his hearing and balance; replacement collar bone on the left side, which acts as a go-to injection point; lung augmentation; additional support for the bowels; the spinal support that circumvents the damage connections, allowing him to walk (there's sensation and muscle twitching without it, but not enough for him to actually move his legs.

He's neat not just because it's required, but because his appearance is important to him.

Also, yay <3 I believe in trying to set the scene, but not to the point where the cold, slate-grey walls of Balmorran plaststeel and decades of paint start to interrupt the talking.