You leave Shorn and head bridgewards. The Serpent's electronic systems aren't well protected, and you're in within moments, marking yourself as friendly on their IFF, downloading a map, figuring out where people are, where they're going. Who's running for the escape pods and who thinks that this is salvageable.
You don't tolerate the endless indignities of a corporate contract for the money. You didn't sign the Contract, didn't sell your soul to the Sphere and GCVD and their interests for ten years of your life, for the money.
You come through the wall, impaling one soldier on a piece of shrapnel. Grabbing their gun, hosing down the next. Flinging a stolen grenade into the center of the squad as they turn around. Then you're gone, leaving the injured survivors to question their memories, to fire wildly at shadows in fear.
You didn't do it for the ride off world, you didn't do it because it was your best way off of Ain Jaloot, you didn't do it for the career prospects or the promise that, when it was over, for the first time in your life, you would live on a planet that wasn't at war.
There's no Printer on the ship. Just an expansive bay filled with warmechs and weapons. You leap between them, running across walls and sliding through crawlways as you fight you way to the bridge. Bullets fly in all directions as they try to identify you, as they do your work for you. You bellow contradictory orders into their comm networks, deepening the confusion, the panic, overtaking the ship.
You didn't even do it for the hormones, for your city, or your then-wife, or your family, or your nation. They were nice, they were perks, but eight years ago, when you made this call, they were not what motivated you.
They set up a heavy machine gun as the bridge seals its pressure doors. You leap into view, and as they bring the gun to bear you shift. The world goes bright, colors wash out and people fade away as you slip through the gunfire, past their lines, and phase back into reality with your weapon trained on the gunner's head.
The others don't survive much longer.
As much as you hate yourself for it, you signed up because when you were eighteen and stupid you enjoyed this.
The bridge is sealed tight. Pressure doors, armored bulkheads, no electronic overrides. Just an armored porthole where a guard watches you in terror. You stare him in the eyes for a moment, crank the phase-cloak up past every warning threshold, and step out of the universe.
It is blindingly bright and deafeningly loud. You feel yourself burn and freeze all at once, and the stench of blood and death is replaced with a myriad of pleasant memories, of printed food and cakes and candles and flowers. You can see the outlines of the bridge as you step through the bulkhead, step into the void where you know several crewmembers are staring through the porthole.
Then you resume existing. You realize immediately that you're materializing inside someone, you feel your body wrench in all directions, feel nausea you should be immune to rise in your gut. Then you are in the world properly, gore flying in all directions. Lightning arcs across the room, fusing panels, killing crew, blowing out consoles. Soldiers turn, raise their guns, scream in panic, and your pistols are already blazing away.
One of them manages to surrender. Two more were so badly injured by the lightning that you decide that they're not combatants. Eight corpses litter the bridge, and more lay in the halls you came through on the way here.
Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'oon
You collapse into the captain's chair, sore more than anything else. You pull the ruined phase cloak out of your hardsuit, and your spine immediately makes its unhappiness about the overload known. You stretch, trying to work the kink out of your back as you wait for Scorn to make contact. You try not to think about….anything about the last thirty minutes, really.
The bridge is ruined, and wasn't that great before you got in. The Midgard Serpent does not have the luxury of clean, bright colors, hidden lights, and omnipresent holographics of the Kipling. It's industrial, grimy, all steel and tubing, like the makeshift armor of its crew. Speaking of which, your healthy prisoner starts inching towards a gun. They stop when you glare at them, but the movement was obvious. You're debating saying something about it, about everything that's happening here, that is anything besides an incoherent scream of rage and loss when Shorn calls.
"Got 'em to medbay," she huffs. She's breathing heavily, but she had two bodies slung over her shoulder so it's hard to blame her, "Doc's already evacuated. It's, uh, they're hooked up but it's weird here."
"Weird how?" you ask
"There's not much in the way of equipment," says Shorn, "And, uh, there are Flash Pods here. Lots of them."
You mute your microphone for a moment and stare at your conscious prisoner. "You have flash-clones here?" you ask.
"We are flash-clones," they reply.
You blink, and suddenly see things about the corpses in the room. How all but the captain seemed ill before you shot them. Sickly pallor, sunken cheeks, limb braces bolted to their exosuits. A dozen signs as to who, and what, they were that you did not notice because you were busy killing them. Suddenly, you begin to understand how a backwater system may have manned the largest warfleet in the Sphere. "My condolences," you say, and you turn the mic back on. "They're flash-cloning soldiers," you say, "Are Oliveira and Yvette stable?"
"Yeah," replies Shorn, "It's just monitoring equipment and I can't-ugh, Mouse was better at this stuff. I can't do much besides, just, look at them."
"That's fine. All you need to do is monitor," you say, the computers in the bridge are starting to reboot, recover from the electricity surge. Many of the consoles are just ruined from the fight, but enough works here. You see dots pop up across the Midgard Serpent's internal map, hundreds of people fleeing via escape pod and shuttle launch. You find a brig, twenty dots still located in its cells. And, finally, you find the medical bay. It's placed oddly, adjacent to the hangar and a pilot's quarters that looks like it was cored out by weapon's fire early in the battle. "Keep them safe. I'm going to try and hail survivors and get us out of here before they figure out that we've taken the ship, so prepare to have more wounded in there."
You're fairly certain that Shorn nods, because there's a pregnant pause before she finally apologizes and confirms.
You start sending pings, a pit in your gut half-convinced that there's no-one left out there. That no-one's going to be able to make it to you. You nearly cheer aloud a minute later, when the first response arrives and the first pods land in the hangar. Five people, then twelve. Twenty. Thirty. Wounded, battered, and demoralized but alive and safe. Most head to Medical. A pair of marines grab guns and begin to track down the last hostiles on the map. As you tell Shorn to find you anyone who can man the bridge, you get one last call.
"Captain Shahid, I-I got your message," says Margai. You can hear him breathing heavily, on the verge of panic, "I have fifty crew aboard a shuttle. We're on our way but-" You hear a detonation over the line, then screaming, and frantically check the Serpent's sensors. You see the shuttle, inbound at high speeds. And you see the Pulsar-class corvette in hot pursuit. "We are under fire, please assist!" comes Margai's message.
You promise to help on reflex as you analyze the situation, but it's bad. You're some distance from the hangar, and Shorn and the crew are some distance from the Bridge. You could deploy, but it'll take valuable time that might well mean that you're too late to save the shuttle. You could deploy Shorn, have her take one of the Midgard Serpent's Supermarines and fight the thing. It's a bad mech, but she's a good pilot. Or you could just try and ram the Corvette. It'll mean more damage to an already fucked-up Midgard Serpent, but a ramming action won't put the people you've saved in danger and will avoid risking Shorn in an untested mech. However if the Serpent's light-drive burns out, you may have issues getting out of the battle.
Defend the Incoming Shuttle
[ ]Have Shorn install remote-pilot software into a pair of the Supermarines. You should be able to at least drive off the pulsar. You have suffered multiple aneurysms from remote-piloting six mechs simultaneously, the module is burned out.
[ ] Have Shorn take the helm and control the still-functioning guns. If she can convince the Pulsar that you're a real threat it should buy you time to launch a Supermarine and go fight. (Risk the shuttle, protect Shorn and the Ship)
[ ] Take the helm and tell Shorn to deploy. You'll put the Midgard Serpent and its jamming between the Pulsar and your shuttle while Shorn suits up and drives it off. (Risk Shorn, protect the Shuttle)
[ ] Take the helm, jam that thing's sensor array, and ram it. It may damage the ship, but that's better than losing the Shuttle. (Risk the Ship, protect the Shuttle)