- Footbutt
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- Exalted Member
*** *** *** *** *** ***
Sergeant Gregory Williams scratched at the hair above his left ear, relieving the itch he so badly wanted to be rid of.
"You okay, Sarge?"
Williams abandoned his task and returned his helmet to it's rightful place on top his head. "Damn padding's worn off."
"Don't make 'em like they used to?" Sergeant Miller chided.
Greg gave him a warning glare, knowing the fellow sergeant wasn't much younger and by putting an "old man" quote into the conversation was a quick way of ending one. "Everyone up?"
With a deep breath that seemed to bring Miller back into a professional manner, he nodded. "A few need to take a leak, but we'll be mobile in two minutes."
"Good."
Their trek to the central base of the orbiting station had taken almost an entire day, so the two sergeants had agreed to stop for a few hours for some much needed rest. The only problem had been to find an adequate place to bunk for the evening hours. Most ODSTs were use to either sleeping in HEVs or out in the open elements of some foreign planet. The warehouse-like architecture left many open areas that would be prone to enemy attack, had there been one. They couldn't even dig a trench to sleep in, so Williams had sent out a few half-squads to stake out the area.
After brief exploration, Parker's team had found what appeared to be a generator room. While it did house some odd looking equipment, it was sectioned off with a door that would provide the ODSTs with some adequate cover, should they need it. But it did leave those sleeping in close quarters with one another, and the constant night-watch shift change made Greg wonder if anyone slept at all.
According to Williams' calculations they were only two heavy doors away from the central base, but he had wanted his troopers rested before entering new territory. He only hoped that the next spire over would be a little less mundane. Although that usually means trouble, Greg thought soberly. Suppressing a yawn, he stood and walked out of the generator room into the main hallway they had traveled down for hours.
After a quick status update from the squad near the double doors, he marched up to where Miller was now standing at the control panel for the doors' release.. "All accounted for?"
"Affirmative." Miller motioned with his left hand down both sides of the corridor. "Alpha and Bravo ready to go."
Taking a deep breath and clearing his mind of the last remnants of unconscious fog, he nodded. "Punch it."
The double doors split diagonally in a 45 degree angle and retracted to either side to reveal what Williams was expecting: an enormous open area big enough to accommodate a medium-sized UNSC frigate. But surprisingly, the sound of the doors opening didn't echo at all. Must be some fancy sound suppressing technology. He didn't waste any time gawking at the vastness of space and led the two groups through the now opened doorway. But with each step, Williams found his gazed sweeping over every meter of the place with amazement in his eyes.
At first, the portion of the central base they were in looked like a boxy hangar with triangular rafters overhead, but upon closer inspection Williams discovered rocky formations framed everything. Even the high arched ceiling looked to be cut from stone and he wondered if this part of the station had been sculpted from a small moon.
Sergeant Miller came alongside him. "Where's Winters?" Williams asked.
"Already at the next spire's door panel," Miller informed, pointing off to their right.
Greg spied the trio of ODSTs with datapads in hand, conferring with one another. "He definitely wants to be right this time," he muttered.
"We all do," Miller said. "From what we know, these spires are pretty linear, so pinpointing the source of that jamming signal should be fairly easy from here."
And sure enough, Corporal Winters' datapad beeped an affirmation and he gave the two sergeants a thumb up. The similar-shaped double doors parted open and the three ODSTs herded through the doorway.
Williams looked out among his troopers and waved them on, feeling a renewed sense of vigor. He had no clue how long they had till the Spirit of Fire arrived, but for the fate of the crew aboard, Williams wasn't going to let them down.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Captain Jame Cutter tried waiting patiently for the lift to bring him down to Engineering and yet found himself drumming his fingers on the outside of his thighs. He had just finished up a briefing with his Shortsword and Longsword squadron leaders and was now on his way to meet with Engineer Andrew Prescott at his pertinent request. Not telling him any details, Cutter knew it had to have been either great news or really, really bad news. Drew was always one for dramatics. The Spirit of Fire was still thrumming through slipspace, so James figured it was good news he had.
With a final chirp, the lift doors parted and Cutter stepped onto the brightly lit Engineering level. He weaved his way down the corridors past several techs walking with their heads bowed over datapads and came to the control room where Prescott spent most of his time.
In contrast to Professor Anders' lab, Prescott kept his place of work neat and free of clutter. The three large desks that lined the left, right, and rear walls were empty except for the computer gear and the individuals manning them. At the center of the room was a simplified version of the AI pedestal found on the bridge. Prescott was standing there talking with Serina in low tones when he noticed the Captain's presence. "Ah, you were quick to get down here," he said lightly.
"It sounded urgent," James replied with a flat smile. He nodded to Serina and stepped to the pedestal. "Progress?"
Serina and Prescott exchanged glances as if either wasn't sure who should answer, but it was the Chief Engineer that spoke. "Amazingly so, actually." He pointed to a screen off to his left, James' right, and the rotating image of the Spirit of Fire's crest was replaced by graphical gauge readouts with all manner of electrical and quantum terms Cutter was only vaguely familiar with.
Serina led the explanation. "Sir, I've managed to run my own diagnostics on the FTL drive we extracted from Tradewind," she began. "I believe I can modify," she paused and seemed to consider her words, "well, let's just say I can get her going faster."
Raising an eyebrow, James leaned his head forward. "How much faster are we talking?"
"It would shave almost 36 hours off our slipspace travel time," Andrew Prescott answered.
James frowned, feeling oddly skeptical. "How is that possible? Drew, you told me the mapping ship's drive was underpowered to make our normal velocity through slipspace."
Prescott pursed his lips for a moment. "That was before Serina had an interesting idea. By allocating power from the Spirit of Fire's main reactor and with a quick rework of some capacitor stations, it's possible." He raised his eyebrows. "The only setback is that we'll have to lower the electrical output for other systems."
"Such as?"
"Environmental and illuminating systems," Serina responded. "If we combine barracks and ward off sections of the ship that won't be used till Weapons Systems become necessary, then yes, we can cut our Slipstream time by a day and a half."
Cutter folded his arms across his chest and nodded. It all sounded a little too good to be true. His ship now had a functional FTL drive with the onboard AI streamlining slipspace travel. Even his troop commanders were getting anxious at the thought of rescuing the ODSTs and Spartans off the Covenant cruiser. James had even been mulling over the technical readouts of Installation B-23 from Anders' datapad and knew the task before them wouldn't be as simple as a grab-and-go extraction."What are the risks?" he asked.
"Minimal, of course," Serina said. "The extra strain on the FTL drive will reduce its lifespan, but Tradewind's crew took very good care of it. It will get us to our destination as currently projected, but our return trip home would better be handled at a fraction of the power."
The very mention of "home" seemed to still the room as technicians at their desks paused their work. "Home" was where everyone wanted to be. "Home" was what they were looking forward to. "Home" was what kept them going.
James nodded again and looked over at Prescott. "Can you confirm all of this?"
"Sir, we've ran the numbers a thousand times and Serina's logic is sound. We'd still need to run a couple simulations on our journey back to UNSC-controlled space, as well as compare the navigation data we've obtained with our own."
Cutter unfolded his arms and gathered his hands at the small of his back. "One step at a time, Drew." He glanced over to Serina. "How soon can you implement this plan?"
"Anytime, Sir," she said with a smile.
"Will we need to bring the Spirit of Fire out of slipspace?"
"That will not be necessary." Serina shifted her weight. "Though informing the crew that their cabins could get a little chilly might be a good idea before we begin."
James worked his jaw for a moment. Even with the logistical nightmare of moving half his crew to quarter with the other, it would still give them the best odds to get to the Spartans in time. "I'm sure the sacrifice of 'close company' will be worth the cost to everyone." James took a half step backward. "I'll alert the crew of the plan, and once I get the word from the quartermaster that all are accounted for in their new barracks, you can begin."
"Very well, Captain," Serina said approvingly.