We made our way past mid-ship - if my estimate for the corvette’s length was accurate - before Noma put up her left fist to signal me to halt. One of the few military signs even I understood, although I think she did it more out of instinct than actually intending to. “The bridge should be around this level. I don’t expect any resistance by what we have found so far, but I’ll go in first again.”
“Ok, should I peek again?”
“No, if this really is the bridge, there should only be a single file corridor down for about three meters. If we are to meet any resistance, it would be there or when entering the bridge proper. You’ll wait here until I give the clear. If I don’t check in after 60 seconds maximum, you’ll make your way back to the Seal and... I don’t really know.”
Huh? That was rare. Usually, Noma always had a plan or at least acted like she had it all planned out. But before I could reply, she already continued.
“If the computer says I’m dead, you fly towards the closest system and point them here. If I’m still alive, you activate the distress beacon and wait for someone to come, unless you see the corvette activating or something approaching, understood?”
That caused me to swallow... hard. I mean, I had said that I would treat this situation with the seriousness it deserved, but... Noma actually thought she could... die here? This was like our second job together, shouldn’t we, I don’t know, call for backup or something? But, before I could voice that suggestion, the ex-marine looked back at me and put her helmet’s reflective layer up so I could actually see her face.
Noma still had that confident grin, bordering on smug, that she had worn during our suit-up. I know it wasn’t really rational, but seeing her like that also got my own nerves to calm down a bit. “Don’t worry. I promise you, even if there was someone on the bridge, 9 out of 10 cases, I’ll still come out unscathed.”
“Okay, Just... just be careful.”
All she said in response was a single “Always,” as she put her helmet’s protection against radiation back in place and turned towards the door. At that moment, I realized she didn’t have a crowbar on her and thought she had forgotten that she couldn’t open the door on her own. Noma, however, had other ideas.
Now, the rational part of my brain realized, that the motors installed in her ex-military suit must have done the majority of the mechanical work, but seeing the woman over a head shorter than me pushing open the metal doors, with hundreds of kilos of mass, seemingly with the power of her thighs alone, had my head thinking about a lot of other things. But, before I could interpret where exactly these thoughts had sprung up from, Noma released her boots from the doors and drifted feet-first into what lay beyond. A few agonizing moments later - though my clock told me only about 25 seconds had passed - she gave the all-clear and I released a breath, I hadn’t even realized I was holding in.
Walking through the door, I first saw the corridor Noma had mentioned. It honestly looked more like a funnel for any intruders brave enough to walk in. If there had been any form of defensive armament installed, it could probably put an end to all but the most determined breaching attempts. Luckily, I couldn’t see any turrets or towers installed, though that didn’t mean they could just be powered down and hidden.
Entering the bridge proper, as Noma had called it, however, showed me a view that was both strangely familiar yet also alien to me. Military ships apparently had a similar bridge structure to some of the larger freighters I had worked on as a semi-circle of consoles and chairs was placed along the far side of the room. What was new, however, was the raised platform in the middle with a few large transparent screens and one smaller console and chair positioned between the screens and other workstations. Probably the captain’s chair if I had to guess.
Just like the rest of the ship, the bridge was powered down as all but a single screen and console were turned off. I made my way toward the captain’s position, where Noma was already looking at the dimly glowing computer. “Anything interesting?” I asked just as I reached her side.
“Nah, it’s still booting up in low energy mode. Hopefully, there are some logs to shine some light on what happened to the ship.”
Normally, the computers should have booted up in a few seconds, but the long inactivity probably meant it could take a few minutes. Instead of waiting by the console, however, I decided to have a look around. The bridge - or cockpit for smaller vessels - could reveal a surprising amount about the people who worked and sometimes even lived there. Decorations or souvenirs were the obvious indicators but even often overlooked things like how deep the coffee stains were could show some character quirks of the crew. More often than not, it also hinted at a caffeine addiction.
The bridge this time around was in pristine condition though. No personal items anywhere and - except for the occasional dust bunny - most surfaces looked like they had been cleaned regularly. I’m not really sure if that was typical for military vessels, or if the captain of this particular corvette was just strict... Or maybe they had cleaned the ship before abandoning it. That would at least imply they weren’t in an emergency. “The computer’s up.” At that, I made my way back to Noma.
Reaching the captain’s seat, I pushed myself down onto the chair, only to bounce a few centimetres back up when I met the cushioned surface. In the corner of my eye, I could see Noma looking at my antics, though thanks to the helmet I couldn’t see her facial expression. “Alright, let’s see... Most systems have been powered down... including life support... Ah, the distress beacon has been activated and the radio systems are still powered and set to transmit a message.”
Noma turned back to the console and her head tilted a few degrees to the side. “That’s weird. I don’t remember picking up any transmissions. In fact, if you hadn’t found the anomaly to begin with, we would have just flown by.” Hmmm, she was right about that. If the ship had been sending a distress call, it should have been found a long time ago, even if it was a bit out of the way.
A few clicks through the menu revealed the problem, however. “The transmitters are burned through. Probably from transmitting non-stop without maintenance... Also, the reactor isn’t actually out of fuel. If these numbers are right and my estimates aren't completely off they should have had enough fuel for 3 light-years at flux point-five. Strange.”
“It is... can you see what message they were trying to send?” Clicking through the menus again, I found the answer pretty quickly. “I can’t. At least not in emergency mode. The main data core should have it saved though, as well as the logs.”
“Agreed. It should be in a safe near the door. Hopefully, the override codes haven’t changed in the last 70 years.”
“There isn’t really much more I can do from here unless we restore full power,” I said while pushing myself off the chair again. Noma just nodded once and made her way back to the door. Instead of going through, however, she went towards the right and headed for a small embedded numpad similar to the one I saw on the locker in the airlock. This one was powered down as well, but most suits had a few power cords that could connect to standard sockets and ex-military hardware was no exception to that rule.
“Do you even know the combination?” I asked.
“No, but one of the overrides should work. If not, it'll just destroy the data core, although I don’t know if that can even be done without power.” And with that, Noma started typing a combination into the pad. At first, I tried to keep up with the amount of numbers she put in, but I kind of lost track around digit number 30 or so.
“How do you even remember that?”
“You don’t. Or that’s what the brass hopes at least. Your suit would normally do the actual override part. The manual codes are intended strictly for emergencies. Also, the code I put in is the time-unrestricted version that only captains and above get access to.”
“Okaaay...” that raised a bigger question, however. Namely: “Why do you have them then?”
“Hey, a girl’s got to have her secrets, you know?” with that, she opened the thick door of the wall safe."Otherwise, you lose that all-important mystique." The inside of the safe was dominated by what looked like a black suitcase with the words ‘SCV Fuchsbau - Main data core’ printed in white alongside an emblem of the USS Navy. “Fuchsbau? Huh, I wonder what that means,” I muttered, more to myself, but Noma answered anyway: “Corvettes are loosely named after animals. Maybe some kind of fox thing.”
Besides the core was a service pistol similar to the one Noma carried and 2 magazines. Noma simply grabbed the data core and, with no fanfare, pulled it out of its socket. After that, she looked at the pistol and seemed to be lost in thoughts for a few seconds, before turning towards me.
“I never really asked, but you know how to shoot a gun?”
“Only in theory. I never held one myself.”
Nonetheless, she turned back towards the safe and grabbed the weapon. After checking the inserted magazine, she held it towards me, grip first. I tentatively grabbed onto it, but Noma didn’t let go of the barrel before her other hand pointed towards a small lever on the left side of the gun. “That’s the safety. Right now, it’s engaged. If you push the lever up, you’ll first go into single-shot, then 3-round-burst. Don’t do that unless I tell you to. You should have 15 bullets, including the one in the chamber. Don’t put your finger anywhere near the trigger unless you intend to shoot and don’t point the barrel at anything you don’t mind shot. Understood?”
“...Understood,” I said a lot more timidly than Noma’s explanation had been. I had never really been a fan of guns or conflict in general, for that matter. Heck, even when playing games, I preferred the pacifist route if possible and honestly never thought I would hold anything more dangerous than a kitchen knife in my own hands... Work tools not included. Hopefully, the rest of the ship would be as empty as the bridge. Hearing my response, Noma simply let go of the barrel, grabbed the data core out of the air where it had been floating, and made her way to the door. Giving one last glance at the gun in my hand, I followed her.
Going down the elevator shaft to the reactor in silence, I realized one very awkward fact. I didn’t have a gun holster. Now, obviously, normal scrapyard equipment also didn’t include a gun to, you know, holster, so it had never been a problem before. But, right now, I was awkwardly holding the weapon on the grip part, fingers as far away from the trigger as they could. Maybe I should just store it in one of my suit pockets? But then I might accidentally fire it if we actually do get attacked and I inevitably panic. Before I could try if my pockets were even big enough for the weapon, Noma stopped in front of a door.
“This should either be the reactor or the upper engine level. After you open the door, we will enter similar to the airlock. I don’t know the layout well enough to know where someone could take cover, so keep your eyes open.”
I gave a small nod and decided to just trust that the gun wouldn’t misfire while inside my pocket. Afterwards, I unhooked the crowbar from my belt and kneeled down near the top of the door. Noma took position on the opposite side of the door and aimed her gun toward the closed doors. Getting the beak of the crowbar between the doors was easy and giving one last glance at Noma, still looking at the door, I put my suit-enhanced strength behind the longer lever and met a bit more resistance than expected, but I managed to pry it open a few centimeters.
Getting my hands between the slightly ajar doors, I pushed them wide enough for a person to enter. Without the door motors giving resistance, they were basically just big metal plates and, while they may have a substantial amount of mass, in the weightless environments I usually worked in, it was still trivial to move them out of the way.
When the doors opened to about half their maximum, Nora spoke up. “Okay, get ready. You’ll take your right again and I’ll take the left. And remember to disengage the safety before going in.”
I attached my crowbar back to my belt and pulled out the gun. With an almost comical amount of nervousness, I slid the safety lever up, while making 1000% sure the barrel was pointing to an empty wall. As I felt the lever click into position, I looked back at Noma. Thankfully, she didn’t tease me for being so nervous. It was probably better than the opposite, especially if it came to firearms, even in her eyes. “Ready?” I gave a small nod. “Okay on three, remember: you take the right. One, two, THREE!”
Similar to when we left the airlock, I whipped around the corner, scanning the room as best as I could. This was definitely the reactor. On the far side of the room, I could see big injector tubes that would normally pump coolant between the reactor and the outside radiators. On the wall nearest to me, was a row of lockers and closed compartments mounted onto the wall. Also similar to the airlock breach was the lack of movement from anything bigger than a dust bunny.
“Clear.” This time it was Noma who called out first, and I followed suit a moment later. Letting out a small sigh of relief, I lowered the gun and quickly re-engaged the safety.
The reactor room was powered down and even the emergency lighting had been turned off. As I flipped around and landed on the ground, I had a look at Noma’s side of the room. It was similar to mine, with the tubes mounted to the wall on the far side, but a big workbench took up the rest of the space. The tools on it were all either strapped on or magnetically affixed to the walls or the table.
The centrepiece of the room, however, was the reactor. A large cylinder with a radius of roughly 7 meters and measuring at least the five meters of the room in height. Thankfully, a properly shut-down reactor was rather harmless as the almost-cool fusion reaction used inert fuel pellets. The biggest danger was actually the energy source that was required to kick-start the reaction. More often than not, big civilian ships used high-powered lasers for kickstarting the reaction while smaller craft often used the station or ship they were docked at as booster. How it was in the military, though, I had no idea.
