FTL The Final Voyages of the U.S.S Kestrel
Posted: Fri Oct 19, 2012 3:02 pm
Hey everyone! I LOVE so many things about FTL, but one of its stellar selling points to me is that each and every adventure is different, intense, and contains stories worth telling. I've decided to do a play through on Normal, except write the experience into a cohesive narrative as it progresses. I'll stay true to what happens in the game while taking creative licenses at moments to enhance the readability and story telling potential. But if crew members die, they die, if the ship is destroyed, the story will end.
These... are the Final Voyages of the U.S.S Kestrel.
Jump 0: Arrival in Civilian Space.
A man slowly reached up with a trembling hand to turn off the blaring alarm. And suddenly, there was silence. The man stood, gripping the edges of the command console for support as he breathed in heavy, laboured gasps. Blood ran down his face, pouring from a long gash and dripping onto the controls. It stung his eyes, and for a moment he wondered if it was only the pale, red, luminescence that still flooded the command bridge from the emergency lights, but he no longer cared. He winced and turned on the ship's intercom.
"All remaining crew members of the U.S.S Kestrel... If any of you can walk, then drag whoever else is still breathing... and report to the med bay on level two."
His left arm was broken, and it slid off of the controls. He gasped in pain, but let it hang uselessly at his side while he punched in a command sequence with his right hand. The engines of the Kestrel powered down, and the first officer stepped over his dead captain, staggering towards the door. They hissed as they slid open and shut behind him.
After a few short, shaky, steps, the first officer slumped against the wall. He stayed there for a moment, trying to catch his breath and cradle his arm. The explosions that had rocked the ship still echoed in his mind. Closing his eyes he tried to recall being flung from his seat, but it was all a blur. All he could remember was the fraction of a second he had to raise his hands and brace for impact.
Grunting, he pushed off of the wall and lurched forward, descending to level two and into the room that controlled the door systems. Lights and monitors for computers he didn't fully understand flickered at him, but he pressed on. Again, the doors hissed open and closed, this time revealing a number of stasis pods and automated surgical chambers. Drone systems hung from the ceiling, moving back and forth on cables and rails. They watched him, each peering with a single, green, unblinking eye centered in the middle of their spherical heads.
-Good evening, Captain David Elwood, shall I provide medical assistance?- a synthesized voice asked. David blinked dumbly; the shock was beginning to wear off as the realization dawned upon him. Anticipating this, the medical drone continued, -Sensors indicate that Captain Ben Quinton has expired, is it not correct to assume that the First Officer will be promoted in such a scenario?-
"Y-yeah..." David muttered, looking at the floor. He's really dead... he thought to himself. -Ah- The drone chirped, -Then congratulations are in order for your new promotion, Captain, and my condolences for the circumstances under which it was granted. Might I suggest a quick bout in a surgical chamber while we await the recharge of the FTL drive?-
Elwood nodded, and began to ease himself onto one of the tables when the doors hissed open again, this time from the other side. Coughing, a man emerged, dragging another one from under the arms.
"We got a man down here!" he gasped. Soot marks marred the face of the man still standing, and his uniform was noticeably charred. "He's bleedin' pretty bad..."
-Good evening, Communications Officer Jon Easton, shall I provide medical assistance to you and Engineer Alex Garland?- Drones whizzed over, descending on cables and pistons as they lifted unconscious man onto a surgical table.
"Hunh? Oh, no, I'm... I'm fine I don't need any-" Easton coughed.
-Multiple second degree burns and lungs showing significant amounts of smoke inhalation suggest contrary to the lies from your word hole- the drone interrupted. Mechanical arms ushered him to the third surgical table despite his protests.
David sat up,
"Computer, field dressings only, we need to make room as soon as possible for any other injured crew members." he commanded.
-Negative-
"That's an order!" David barked.
-Sensors indicate all surviving crew of the U.S.S Kestrel are currently located in the Medical Facility-
Elwood's eyes widened, stunned by disbelief while Jon's protests suddenly fell silent.
"M-my God..." Jon muttered. Elwood didn't say anything else. He slid slowly onto his back, staring at the surgical tools lowering over him, no longer noticing them.
He wished the simple supply running crew had never stumbled upon a vital weakness of the rebel fleet. He wished they had come in a better equipped ship. He wished they had never left Federation space. But most of all, he wished this was not his maiden voyage as Captain of the U.S.S. Kestrel.
[[Please feel free to comment! Criticism is both welcome and appreciated!]]
These... are the Final Voyages of the U.S.S Kestrel.
Jump 0: Arrival in Civilian Space.
A man slowly reached up with a trembling hand to turn off the blaring alarm. And suddenly, there was silence. The man stood, gripping the edges of the command console for support as he breathed in heavy, laboured gasps. Blood ran down his face, pouring from a long gash and dripping onto the controls. It stung his eyes, and for a moment he wondered if it was only the pale, red, luminescence that still flooded the command bridge from the emergency lights, but he no longer cared. He winced and turned on the ship's intercom.
"All remaining crew members of the U.S.S Kestrel... If any of you can walk, then drag whoever else is still breathing... and report to the med bay on level two."
His left arm was broken, and it slid off of the controls. He gasped in pain, but let it hang uselessly at his side while he punched in a command sequence with his right hand. The engines of the Kestrel powered down, and the first officer stepped over his dead captain, staggering towards the door. They hissed as they slid open and shut behind him.
After a few short, shaky, steps, the first officer slumped against the wall. He stayed there for a moment, trying to catch his breath and cradle his arm. The explosions that had rocked the ship still echoed in his mind. Closing his eyes he tried to recall being flung from his seat, but it was all a blur. All he could remember was the fraction of a second he had to raise his hands and brace for impact.
Grunting, he pushed off of the wall and lurched forward, descending to level two and into the room that controlled the door systems. Lights and monitors for computers he didn't fully understand flickered at him, but he pressed on. Again, the doors hissed open and closed, this time revealing a number of stasis pods and automated surgical chambers. Drone systems hung from the ceiling, moving back and forth on cables and rails. They watched him, each peering with a single, green, unblinking eye centered in the middle of their spherical heads.
-Good evening, Captain David Elwood, shall I provide medical assistance?- a synthesized voice asked. David blinked dumbly; the shock was beginning to wear off as the realization dawned upon him. Anticipating this, the medical drone continued, -Sensors indicate that Captain Ben Quinton has expired, is it not correct to assume that the First Officer will be promoted in such a scenario?-
"Y-yeah..." David muttered, looking at the floor. He's really dead... he thought to himself. -Ah- The drone chirped, -Then congratulations are in order for your new promotion, Captain, and my condolences for the circumstances under which it was granted. Might I suggest a quick bout in a surgical chamber while we await the recharge of the FTL drive?-
Elwood nodded, and began to ease himself onto one of the tables when the doors hissed open again, this time from the other side. Coughing, a man emerged, dragging another one from under the arms.
"We got a man down here!" he gasped. Soot marks marred the face of the man still standing, and his uniform was noticeably charred. "He's bleedin' pretty bad..."
-Good evening, Communications Officer Jon Easton, shall I provide medical assistance to you and Engineer Alex Garland?- Drones whizzed over, descending on cables and pistons as they lifted unconscious man onto a surgical table.
"Hunh? Oh, no, I'm... I'm fine I don't need any-" Easton coughed.
-Multiple second degree burns and lungs showing significant amounts of smoke inhalation suggest contrary to the lies from your word hole- the drone interrupted. Mechanical arms ushered him to the third surgical table despite his protests.
David sat up,
"Computer, field dressings only, we need to make room as soon as possible for any other injured crew members." he commanded.
-Negative-
"That's an order!" David barked.
-Sensors indicate all surviving crew of the U.S.S Kestrel are currently located in the Medical Facility-
Elwood's eyes widened, stunned by disbelief while Jon's protests suddenly fell silent.
"M-my God..." Jon muttered. Elwood didn't say anything else. He slid slowly onto his back, staring at the surgical tools lowering over him, no longer noticing them.
He wished the simple supply running crew had never stumbled upon a vital weakness of the rebel fleet. He wished they had come in a better equipped ship. He wished they had never left Federation space. But most of all, he wished this was not his maiden voyage as Captain of the U.S.S. Kestrel.
[[Please feel free to comment! Criticism is both welcome and appreciated!]]