U.P.M.C. Ferrum [Inactive]

"I don't know all the details yet sir, I will continue my scans. If you could think of anyone that could do this, and or even someone who would have enemies that could do this, it would be very helpful. Also, I would recommend rounding up any survivors to a common location. We don't want to be hit by another attack while we are spread out. Plus, that might give us some clues for who might do this."


He sighs, "All of this chaos is bringing back bad memories. If you would excuse me, I shall continue my work."
 
"God...I feel like I got hit by a train..." Greg looked around, the lights were flicking, the door was sealed, and something else struck him. He noticed that he wasn't seeing out of his right eye, running his hand over that side of his face he noticed there was some dried blood. Worry spread across his face he followed the blood trail up to his forehead feeling an already scabbing up wound. What the hell happened? He went towards the control panel he had originally been working on. "Lets see what the damage is..." it didn't take long to skim what had happened, at least from the limited data stream that he was getting. The fact that scared him the most was that floor 8 was depressurizing. Currently his room was one of the safe ones...also was locked.


"Well [censord], we got hit and we got hit hard!" he sent a rapid message, "Greg Moray, assistant engineer, stuck in locked room on deck 8 just woke up after being knocked out by whatever hit the ship. repeat stuck in locked room, on depressurizing deck 8."
 
Alaric muttered a curse under his breath, before his wrist communicator began to bleep rapidly. Looking down at it, he brought up the message, scanning it quickly, before cursing again, louder this time.


"Well great, looks like we have someone else stuck on deck 8. I'll go find them, and try and get some more supplies while I'm up there. Just...try and figure out who has enemies on this ship. Pray it's not the Separatists."


Turning, Alaric quickly made his way towards the stair well, slipping his helmet on and sealing the atmosphere inside his suit, before checking his rifle in preparation for more door breaching.
 
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Felix nods at dusk. "let's just continue rallying on deck nine. and you go do what you need to." He then pulls his standard issue handgun from the holster he haphazardly attached to the suit he had thrown on and ran after Alaric. "I'm tagging along, the smell up here is giving me a headache and there's not much i can do at the moment."
 
Error cannot access mainframe, press any key to continue.


Greg slammed the pannel as he tried again common, going through the basic system


"access_root_engine_subsystem, Come one work you infernal machine!" The response was infuriating, the screen quickly displayed the text error_404_string_notfound repeat operation Y/N? before it blacked out. Again Greg pounded on the panel in frustration, the computer flicked back on started processing his request for seemingly for a second then switching to a BSOD, almost as if a middle finger to the engineer. He gritted his teeth and moved towards a panel next to the door. He opened it up working on trying to unlock the damn contraption. "This ship is going to hell and i'm stuck in the blasted room...come on work with me!"
 
"May want to find a respirator at least then, the atmosphere up there's not the stablest," Alaric nodded, heading up the stairs and emerging onto Deck 8. Quickly scanning the corridor, he found that most of the doors had already been opened, save for one, which he quickly made his way towards.


"Hello? Anyone in there?" he shouted, banging a fist against the door.
 
Felix grabbed the full face plexiglass respirator attached to a small tank on the back of his belt and slipped it over his face as they entered deck 8.


He stayed close in tow with Alaric a they approached the door.
 
Greg heard the banging on the door, he quickly answered back with a loud banging on the door. This accompanied with a voice that sounded like a man who was NOT happy with his day. "Yeah! Greg Moray. Currently the guy who should be fixing the life support and the reactor! the damn door is stuck! Please get me the hell out of here so i can start putting this hulk back together!!"
 
"Right then, stand back unless you want a face of shell, to be crushed by the door, or both!" Alaric shouted with a grin, before placing the shotgun to the bolt.


"Clear!" he roared, firing the shotgun, before kicking the door in.
 
Upon hearing the fact that voice was intending to breach the door, Greg rushed to the back wall, he heard the lock get blown of as the door fell in, already he could feel a sudden gust of air rush that marked the fact indeed the area was depressurizing. He noticed the two that had come to get him out of the room and out of habbit snapped to attention mustering a salute, his hand in-front of the dried blood and scabbed up wound, Captain Monroe and Chief Nystrom! Engineer Greg Moray reporting for duty, lets get of this floor now!"
 
"Couldn't agree more," Alaric nodded. "Grab whatever kit you need from here and we'll go, respirators till we get to deck 8."
 
Greg grabbed the engineering kit that he had entered with, also going over to the emergency kit in the room, he grabbed the emergency respirator put it on. However the room kit only contained minor medical supplies gauze and a bit of antibiotic ointment, but he threw them into his own kit and headed for the door. He looked at the Chief of security, and captain, breathing fairly rapidly. his wound again starting to bleed, "1. don't mind the wound, i'm currently running on adrenaline...so that should hold me over till I get to med-bay 2. how bad is the damage? The info panel in there already was busted so I could only skim through the data..."
 
"There isn't quite a med bay right now. Grigory will patch you up when we get to deck 9. And it's pretty bad. you're lucky you were on this floor. Anything below you is completely red. Life support is on it's way back to full operation and I don't believe anyone has seen the condition of the generators or engines yet."
 
"Basically what the Captain's saying is we're fairly screwed, and far too many people are dead, unaccounted for or wounded," Alaric sighed, beginning to walk back towards the stairwell. "Plus it may have been sabotage, which adds an extra layer of crap to this situation."
 
Greg nodded in acknowledgment, "Ahh wonderful...you know what else is wonderful...either the initial lack of oxygen is getting to me...or the adrenaline is wearing off." He shook his head to clear the light-headedness, and made sure the tank was on. seeing that it was, he added, "OK it's the adrenaline..." but he had an odd look on his face, "wait...sabotage? who sabotages a mining rig? There is little strategical value in a planet cracker out in the middle of no where...sure if it was above orbit...you could do something...but in the middle of nowhere? Either someone has a really clever plan, or is extremely stupid, and we're that unlucky..."
 
"Or someone just hates our guts," Alaric offered, before putting out a hand to steady Greg. "Come on, we can't have an engineer passing out at a time like this, we need you operational. And as for reasons, aside from petty revenge against one of the crew, which I doubt, it could be piracy, here for our haul. We were a fully staffed crew, so slavers are a possibility. Or it could just be Martian Separatists hoping to knockout some of the UPMC ships and make the war harder for the UPA"
 
"The last one is the most likely. We provide a lot of iron for the U.P.A. which means we provide a lot of steel. But if I were them I'd attack one of the smaller instillations in the astroid belt back in the Sol solar system, where most of the U.P.A.s Titanium comes from. Not some long term mining rig in deep space. Hell we weren't even due back to Titan for another 3 and a half months."
 
"If I remember correctly, all those Sol system mines are a lot more heavily guarded these days," Alaric mused. "Whereas we had a security team of five. Take out enough long term miners, and you cripple the system. Still, we don't know for certain what happened, and blind speculation isn't going to do anything except incite panic, and on a dead ship, that's the last thing we need."
 
" Good point." He pauses briefly. "Well at this point i assume most of the crew is assembled that is still alive. When we get back i should probably talk to everyone. try to calm everyone the best I can and get the full blown relief effort started. We need to seal any leaks in the remaining parts of the hull and get the generators back up to full. Shit, Greg do you know how many exterior


maintenance suits we have access to on decks 9 through 14? We need as much help as we can get on relieving any issues below deck 8."
 
"Yeah, currently we just need to get the crew helped and the ship to a point where at least we have a stable power system and communications. If we're stuck on auxiliary power, things will last for a while...but that can't hold out forever." He paused looking at the captain... "assuming that no damage to deck 9-14... we have 4...8...I estimate at least 16, 6 more if you count the ones stored in the maintenance tubes...but those are probably out of the way and I don't know how damaged those are. Also...if you get a few people suited up...you technically could get to the other airlocks on the lower levels... then get those suits... but that require them dragging a crate on the outside of the ship...or inside if you wanna risk depressurizing safe areas..." he rubbed his head, half from pain and half from thought, "I told operations we needed more...but they responded that you only need a light crew for EVA repairs. To expensive they said...God help us after this...we're probably going to have suits lining the walls once we get out of this one."
 
"There are a few spare military suits in the armoury," Alaric chipped in, helping Greg towards the stairs, before emerging onto deck 9. "Plus four on the corpses if you don't mind wearing a dead mans clothes."
 
Greg shurgged, "I'm practicing for the crew...better to be optimistic around them..but yes...I agree with you...as a realist...we are screwed. But we stand a chance of last a bit longer if we get a deck or two plugged up, and the reactor running...from there we'll have power...and a place for everyone to be. Still we have no idea about the engines and the reactor...so it could be intact or totaled...until then...Schrodinger's cat is a [censord]..."
 
"You know, it's nice to serve with people who know the stakes," Alaric smirked. "I can't tell you how annoying it is to have people being blindly optimistic about everything. They're usually the first ones to start crying when the shite all hits the fan as well."
 
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