The bridge of Hannah's Pride

A violent jolt shook the interior of Hannah's Pride, the sound of tearing metal echoing as the ship was forcefully thrown off course.

Alarm klaxons screamed their alerts across the full length of the Hannah’s Pride. as info-screens all over the vessel turned red, a stark contrast to their usually soothing blue. On the ship’s bridge the transport ship’s central command-computer’s loop of audio warnings confirmed the worst to Cadet Lieutenant Meryl Smythe of the 4th Sparrow-Hawk Cadet Team.

“Catastrophic FTL-Phase shift disruption detected. True-space collision detected. Damage analysis to be confirmed. Inertial dampeners engaged. Engine shutdown initiated. Life support stable. Catastrophic FTL-Phase shift disruption detected. True-space collision detected. Damage analysis to be confirmed. Inertial dampeners engaged. Engine shutdown initiated. Life support stable…”

“A phase shift disruption and a collision, what were the odds?” thought Meryl.

“Computer!” the blonde officer barked, cutting through the standard high-level looped alerts, “give me a tactical analysis of current situation. Please tell me this was an accident?” asked Meryl already intuitively knowing this was not merely extraordinary misfortune.

“Negative. 99.9% chance of ambush and boarding action in operation. Supplemental: Space system scan. Violation-class **** vessel inbound. Designation Battering-Ram. Assigned to Free-Colony licensed mercenary group 89th Windswept ORCAS. Additional, Sabre-class frigate inbound. Designation Viper Stream. Assigned to unlisted Star Ravishers."

Meryl felt her heart rising in her chest. “Fuck!” Meryl swore emphatically.

“Computer focus damage analysis on weapon systems.”

“Weapon systems damaged. Status: Inoperable.”

“Shit. Computer, fighter launch-bays; damage analysis?” There were 3 squadrons of Longship-class fighter bombers onboard in fighter bays the cadet squad could use. But this sliver of hope immediately disappeared as the computer emotionlessly gave its assessment.

“Fighter launch bays 1-3 systems’ damaged. Hanger-bay doors damaged. Status: Inoperable. Fighter bay cargo; squadrons 1 and 2 damaged. Status: Inoperable. Squadron 3 destroyed. Supplemental analysis: Secondary launch bays damaged. Escape pods status: Inoperable.”

Meryl supressed the surge of panic. She looked around wondering what resources she had available. The Hannah’s Pride’s bridge was empty of course. Despite its great size, 2km long and nearly 400m abeam, the elegant transport ship was almost entirely automated. All ship’s travelling in Feral Space had some defences but in truth the vessel was a civilian craft. And the only true member of the ship’s crew was the captain and she was nowhere to be found.

In fact, when the ship had been violently shunted out of FTL-Phase Shift the captain of the Hannah’s Pride had been on the bridge with Meryl. The captain, a bossy but not unattractive buxom brown-haired woman in her mid-thirties had sounded the general alarm and then without a further word to Meryl had promptly locked herself in the Officer’s Panic Room. Which considering that the captain was the only ship-officer onboard also made her the sole occupant.

Meryl made her way over to one of the bridge console’s. She needed to see the situation for herself and not rely on the computer. She rapidly scanned the tactical readouts from the ship's sensors, noting the point of the Violator-**** craft’s impending breach; the aft cargo bay.

“What the hell is happening Ma’am?”

Meryl didn’t bother turning. She could recognise the precise cultured tone of Cadet Sergeant Zinnia Adams anywhere. Only 19 years old she was already making a name for herself for having a knack for planning and strategy. She was the current tactical analyst of the squad.

“Ambush. ORCAS and Star Ravishers are bringing the party to us.”

“Oh god,” Zinna breathed.

Meryl looked over sharply at her second in command, and secretly sometime lover. Zinna was in a skintight black jump suit. It showed off her lithe figure and pert breasts. The pretty dark haired 19-year-old was obviously worried though. Her fair complexion framed by her black wavy hair had paled significantly.

“Get yourself together Zinna,” said Meryl.

The lithe teenager nodded, “where is the captain?” she asked.

“She’s a civilian,” Meryl answered curtly indicating with her thumb towards the locked blast door of the panic room. “Listen,” Meryl continued “we know where they are going to hit.” She stabbed a finger at the schematic readout on the console, “aft cargo bay.”

Zinna was focused “Ok, that bay is easily big enough to deploy the full squad. And it is reinforced so our weaponry won’t damage the hull…”

“Exactly,” the blonde squad leader grinned with command in her sharp green eyes and confidence in her demeanour, “it’s a **** point and they will be sitting ducks.”

Meryl thought she saw some assurance coming back to her second in command. The lieutenant might only be 20 years old but it made her the oldest of the cadets and she knew she needed to instil confidence and keep an iron nerve. The Sparrow Hawks had been trained to be the best of the Free-Matriarch state. Meryl remembered the words of her Mistress Tutor back at the academy. “The Sparrow-Hawks are unyielding, courageous and determined. Their spirits are not encumbered with dread but rather enkindled with a sense of impregnable sisterhood.”

“Ok Zinna,” Meryl gave the Sergeant a grin and smacked her ass. “Get down to the Mecha Stable and suit up. I’ll rally the others.”

As the dark-haired beauty left, Meryl had a strange feeling. Like her mind was full of fog “Academy”. She couldn’t quite remember why she and her team of cadets were even out here anyway. To guard Dr Cammie Tonda of course. But why? Dr Tonda was a civilian. Which senior officer had assigned them the mission? Why would a civilian ship like the Hannah’s Pride have a squad of Sparrow Hawks assigned to it?

Just as soon as the feeling and intrusive thoughts had arrived, she shook them off. It didn’t matter. She was in combat now.

The Lieutenant Cadet stabbed the general systems intercom.

"This is not a drill. Mobilise, Sparrow-Hawks, mobilise!" Meryl's voice resounded over the suit-intercom, simultaneously commanding and reassuring. "Suit up and deploy in aft cargo bay. Standard formation, let's give these bastards a warm welcome."