Dead in the Water

[Anton North]

The Cron Drift


Had it been hours, or days, even weeks since the power had died, Anton couldn't tell. Nothing he bumped into had a working chronometer on it, or worked at all for that matter. His vision pierced the darkness just enough to make out the objects around him as he clambered through the corridors of the Ghtroc 720 Polaris in search of a medpac.

Artificial gravity, life support, and power generation had ceased operation when the accident happened, which Anton guessed to be an ion mine detonation, a minute or so later in the darkness and the ship was struck by a very small asteroid, in comparison to what could be seen out the viewport. The force knocked Anton from his pilot's seat and his head slammed into the overhead control panel marking his forehead with cuts and bruises from the various switches and knocking him out for an unknown length of time.

He awoke in the dark with only starlight from the viewports for illumination and a dwindling supply of air to breath. Grasping the situation, Anton set out to remedy it. He managed to crawl from the cockpit out into the main corridor, which was now pitch black. He pushed off the doorjamb into the direction he assumed the crew quarters were located and bumped into the wall. He felt his way toward a hatch and grabbed the manual control. Bracing himself as well as he could, and with a bit of strength, he forced the door to slide open.

Dark as the corridors, but scented with the smell of dirty laundry, Anton had indeed found his room. He pulled his way in, aimed for where he recalled his bed to be, and then kicked off the wall. He was struck halfway in by a mass of clothing and possessions knocked from their places by the impact. Eventually he reached the bed and searched with a hand under the frame for his medpac.

[Anton North]

He found the box with ease and pulled it from it's buckles under the bed. He'd hidden it there if ever he found himself in a situation where a boarding party had attacked him. The scenario had him sealing himself in the room, fixing any wounds, and crawling through the service access to the escape pods. He'd follow that plan now if the escape pods weren't also disabled.

Anton carefully popped the latch and opened the kit so nothing would fly out. He felt around for the glowrod inside, ignited it, and left it to tumble in zero-g to provide illumination. Now able to see the contents of the kit he grabbed an adhesive strip and placed it over the cut above his left eye. Blood had clotted already, however to be on the safe side he made sure to press firmly on the bandage so it wouldn't loosen and reopen the cut. The next problem to deal with was the throbbing headache, which a slap patch fixed almost immediately.




Done with the medpac he tossed it away and grabbed the glowrod. His next move was to head aft towards the engineering station and bring power back online. With a little work he could rig the backup generator to power vital systems and get the ship to a port.


GRRROANNNNN


The sound wasn't at all healthy and the sudden upset to the ship was worse sending everything that was already floating to crash into other objects scattering them further. The clothes attacked again, this time in greater force with the hamper, knocking the glowstick free and out into the hallway. The second asteroid collision, Anton knew, impacted a cargo bay door as the sound of metal tearing apart followed. In a matter of seconds the bay would be sucked clean of precious cargo.


"I'm dead."


SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECCCCHHHH


"SO VERY FRAGGIN DEAD!"

[Anton North]

http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/swfanon/images/thumb/4/4c/Starweird.jpg/250px-Starweird.jpg


The thing hovered before Anton in the central corridor, it's eyes focused on his own. Terrified, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. What was he to do? Die.

The creature projected fear into Anton's mind. All the horrors he'd ever conceived of his death became vivid memories, each one. It drew closer, extending both its arms, and spreading its clawed hands. Ghostly flesh peeled away from its form and dissipated into nothing as it moved forward.

Just as it swung the first blow to Anton, he let out a roar and surged forward in a leap, grasping the phantom's limbs as they became tangible. Immediately the creature recoiled pulling free its right arm, but not its left. It shrieked and batted at Anton to let go of its other claw. It projected more fear, intensely and maliciously. Anton resisted for he was locked on the soul instinct to survive. He pushed forward through the ghostly body slashing the spectre's own limb down its chest. More flesh tore away and disintegrated. Where the creature had be wounded dark red energy sprayed forth. The creature howled and projected no images of death now, but of prolonged suffering.

When Anton had passed through the creature fully his hand was empty. The claw had remained on the other side buried in the chest of the beast, that Starweird. It continued to howl and screech until finally it wrestled the claw from the opening, further tearing the wound open. It suddenly seemed distraught and turned for one final attack on Anton. As it lunged for him the thing burst into waves of red energy from within. The Force sent Anton flying.

Everything was dark again, the glowrod had been spent, and the luminescence from the dark side horror had faded.

[Garth Carvey]

By the time Imperial intercept teams arrived on scene the Ghtoric had taken such a beating from the asteroids that the damage caused left it crippled beyond repair. Both cargo bays had been breeched and their contents ejected into space in streams. The cockpit had been crushed by a smaller asteroid, which remained jammed into the hull. Atmosphere continued to leak from around the rock, a sign that the hit was recent and very little air remained inside. The ship was now slowly spinning end over end.

"Look at it. This is a pointless mission." Garth sighed and shook his head. "Probably to late for a recovery."

The men who had gathered around the viewport stared out to the ship, a few nodded in agreement, others gave nothing away of their thoughts. The only other person to speak up was the greenhorn.

"Sir, why'd you volunteer the squad then?" His voice cracked as he spoke.

The young man hesitated about sticking with the gathering after he finished his question. All his squad mates turned and glared at him, while his face flushed red.

The room was silent.

"Step right up the port private," Garth ordered, "and look for a name on the ship."

The trooper did so and tracked the ship as it turned. Inactive running lights didn't illuminate any part of the hull section where he could easily see the identity of the vessel. Then a datapad was held up in front of his face. It listed everything about the vessel; name, owner, origin, last Imperial port, and cargo manifest.

"Polaris," he read out, "The north star. What's that got to do with anything? The owner's name is Anton North, probably named it after his family. I've seen a lot of ships named that way."

"We all have. Now that you've got all that information, can you relate it to anything? Or more importantly, to anyone you know?"

"Not really. I think one of the local fleet commanders shares the name of this guy, but tha- He's related?"

Garth nodded.

"This is a joke, right?" He asked. "Pull one on the newbie."

"'fraid not. Anton North is Commodore North's brother."

"Says here that this guy is a Rebel sympathizer. Caught gun running through several ports. Never tossed in a cell, but fined quite a lot."

"Probably all true, accept for the sympathizer bit. Hell the ISB would have everyone in this sector pegged as a traitor because we're operating in Alliance territory. Read the list of ports that ship's been reported at. Most of those worlds have bans on arms. It looks sketchy seeing as a huge profit can be made smuggling guns into the populace, but look at the destinations listed in the cargo manifest."

"Mostly to the Corporate Sector," he continued, "for the CSA. Legit dealings."

"Not everything is as it seems in the Galaxy. Everyone's paranoid. Paranoia caused this accident. Intelligence has this route marked as a Rebel hotspot, hence the mines. This route is also a frequently traveled path to the CSA, without heavy space traffic and inspection points. Traders such as Anton don’t receive as many fines. Now, I volunteered the squad to recover Anton specifically to get the hell out of this recovery duty. I saw the opportunity to get in favor with the Commodore and hopefully get the unit transferred to his operations against the Alliance."

The cabin shuddered signaling that docking operations had begun. The stormtroopers sealed their helmets in place and checked over their gear before falling into line.

"We all hate zero-g ops. Lets do this quick and recover Anton, if he's still alive. Weapons secured. We shouldn't have to blast anything over there."

The airlock turned from red to green and the troopers descended into the Polaris through its topside hatch. They fanned out as they hit the deck plating. Their mag-boots connecting with the metal floor to keep them upright and stable.

"Team two, check forward compartments. One, we've got aft."