Silvia's Story

8:20am, Major Thomas Clark, Demeter's Cafe

Major Thomas Clark sighed as he moved through the line in the Cafe. He was a bit disappointed at hanging in space longer. It was bad enough that he had to be part of the military force on a Science Ship. Why couldn't he have been assigned to Zeus? It didn't matter now. The Major selected a sausage patty melt, a bowl of fruit, two slices of toast, and a carton of milk. He payed the cashier and looked around. He saw a few of his buddies he had made on the ship, but their table was full. Then he saw Silvia.

A lone woman sitting by the window. The Major looked at her and then he thought about how lonely he had felt recently. His whole life was the military and he had not felt that this Science ship was not the right place to focus on his desire to rank up and show his true potential as a member of the Military. He needed something to take his mind of of this, and someone to spend leave with.

Thomas walked over to her table and sat down across from here. He sat there awkwardly, not sure what to say. He hadn't been in a relationship since he was 17 in High School. He let out a breath and said, "Hello Miss, you looked a bit lonely so I came over to keep you company." If the woman didn't know who he was, she could see the name on his Fatigues. It just said Clark, but that could be enough to go off of. She would have some idea who he was, while she had no idea who she was. Hopefully she didn't reject him.

8:25 Demeter's Cafe- Xifeng Zhou

She had been up early cooking breakfast when the Captain's announcement came over the intercom. Like the rest of the morning crew, she had been anticipating a couple hours away from the ship. She sighed and went back to her biscuits, after which putting them in the oven, washed her hands and went out to the sitting area to see if there was enough of everything as it went with supplies and such. She greeted everyone by name, usually with a Miss or Mister, even if they had a military rank. Some may have frowned on this, however she didn't let it bother her.

She did however make an exception for the Wing Commander, just because the lady insisted on the matter.

After her first check on the items out front she went back to the kitchen and after washing her hands again, she went to get her biscuits out of the oven. The smell of fresh biscuits was quite apparent out in the sitting area. Yet when Xi came out with the pan (and of course a hot pad), you would have thought she was a beauty queen doing her walk after winning. She smiled, and approached the Major and Silvia at their table first.

"Excuse the interruption Mr. Clarke and good morning to you, and to you Ms Silvia, would you like to have a hot biscuit, right out of the oven."

She was glad that none of those fighter pilots had made their way into breakfast yet. It was sometimes like feeding a herd of cattle with them. They had bottomless pits for stomach's, and well weren't the best mannered of the crew.

Yet despite any problem that seemed to arise Xi didn't let it bother her, or she was just good at hiding it. She awaited an answer, so she could move on to and very eager looking scientist at the next table. He always told her that her biscuits were heavenly and that he would marry her if he hadn't already have a wife. Xi didn't know how to take this the first time she heard it.

She just accepted it with a grace, just like she accepted almost everything else with grace.

8:54am - Wg Cdr. Renée Ortega, Demeter’s Café

Renée took the biscuit and took a small bite from the corner. It was good, and she couldn’t resist a small smile. These days it was rare that she tasted anything but ration bars and dehydrated pastes. She turned to face Xifeng, who was smiling politely at her.

“If anything the delay is doing wonders for my schedule. Now that the crew are all set for leave my only job is to keep people rotating through the motions. It’s been months since I’ve actually found the time to come down here and grab a proper meal.” She nodded thoughtfully, and took another chunk off of the biscuit. “Don’t let the crew know that is all it is, though. Can’t have people getting soft just because home is in sight, can we?”

She moved to stand, hoping to slip into the queue for food whilst it was quiet. The ship shuddered. A wrenching sound echoed throughout the café; it reminded her of a widows caws and her stomach sank. The floor tilted violent and the Wing Commander twisted sharply, one leg caught behind her chair leg, and hit the round hard. Overhead the lights flashed periodically. She pushed herself up slowly onto her knees and tried to gather her bearings. Everything played in slow-motion, her mind only able to comprehend snap-shots of information delivered by the flashes of artificial light puncturing the darkness. People were strewn everywhere, bodies tossed like rag-dolls by the force of the turbulence. Tables and chairs had slid of toppled over to bury helpless people beneath them. The smell of smoke was wafting from the kitchens.

Darkness. She became conscious of the sounds: The groaning of the stressed hull; louder, the screams of the wounded or the frightened. Beneath this were the softer moans of the dying. Desperate whimpers of hopeless gasps as people were crushed beneath the weight of furniture of people alike. Boots scuffled along the floor. They squeaked as they lost grip in a pool of fresh blood. Voices called out, dazed and paniced.

A flash of light, blinding in intensity. Renée blinked rapidly. On film things came into focus slowly, as though the mind were piercing a thick fog. To Renée everything came in a flash too fast to comprehend. Chaos. Objects were thrown everywhere. People struggled to gain their feet. Uniforms smeared with wasted food; coffee; blood. Staggering, crew and civilians alike meandered through the maze, tripping over chair legs and collapsing to the ground. The crushed others beneath them, or trod on those too weak to call out. A thin layer of grey smoke covered everything.

Darkness. The deprivation of light was so total that Renée almost panicked. She caught herself just in time. Something warm was running down her face, coating her lips and chin. A dry tongue licked lips cautiously and recoiled at the strong metallic taste. Blood. She wiped one sleeve roughly across her mouth. A throbbing pain was beginning but she forced it down. Tried to collect her thoughts. She had to act.

Another pulse of light illuminated the cafe. Renée stood, using the table beside her as a brace. She scanned the crowd quickly – she noticed Xifeng was nowhere to be seen, lost in the tangle of bodies. She spat a mouthful of thick blood and cupped her hands around her mouth.

“Listen up!” Her voice sounded small, meagre when compared to the cacophony of noise filing the café. She took a deep breath. Tried again. “EVERYBODY LISTEN!” This ytime her voice scythed through the noise. She saw a few heads turn to face her. Those of their feet began staggering in her direction. “All able bodied personnel are to move to the rear of the café! Start laying out the tables along the wall. You,” She spotted a staggering man wearing the insignia of a Major. “Get every non-critical civilian off to one side and out of the way once the tables are set. Every able bodied enlisted is to begin moving all the critically wounded onto the tables and clearing away the debris to one side. Put the dead at the kitchen end, away from everyone else. Send any medical personnel even first aid, down to me.” She spoke quickly, but the Major nodded and rushed to follow his orders. He began shouting commands to those nearest him, raising his hands and gesturing.

Darkness. Less panic this time; people had someone in control and they simply clung to each other and followed the voices. Renée herself began heading towards the rear of the room, to where the tables would be set up. The lights flashed on again; emergency generators whirred. Secondary lighting was back on.

People moved quickly. In minutes those military crew still functioning had herded most of the walking wounded civilians off to one side and had them sitting on the ground, out of the way. Many were crying, smeared in blood and food. They had calmed though. They stared about themselves wide-eyed, taking in the scene. Tables were being set up around Renée and the first people were being laid out. These cried out; civilian and military alike. Head wounds, broken limbs. Some had cutlery sticking from thighs, stomachs and necks. Glass had blinded more than a few. Burns came in next. The stench of smouldering flesh turned her stomach, and the sight of the mottled skin with charred clothing sticking to the flesh made her dizzy. She gripped the edge of a table hard.

“Major!” He turned towards her. He was a young man; early twenties. A trickle of blood ran from his temple. “Good work.”

“Sir! Thankyou, sir.” He nodded and hurried back to the fray. At the far end of the room the pile of dead was growing quick. At least a dozen bodies. At least twenty more people were still laying in cafes middle whilst people attempted to dig them out safely. A trio of people rushed towards her. The first of those with any medical experience. She set them to work immediately. Without any supplies they were ordered to treat only those they could save.

Head still thundering painfully, Renée moved to the nearest communications route. She pressed the button with fingers crossed. “This is Wing Commander Ortega, location café. The situation is serious. Requesting immediate medical help: dozens of wounded, at least fifteen dead. The café can be used as a medical station for this deck. Request supplies immediately. Sitrep requested. Awaiting further orders.” She logged it for the bridge and waited with the phone pressed tightly to her ear.