Space-4

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Amanda Ray had some teeth left, and as the klaxons blared throughout the ship, these came to life. Her HK-35 plasma cannon emerged from their wing pylons, her hull-mounted Browning EMP generator unfolded, and her remaining Vulcan ELA oscillator extended its antenna. Throughout the ship, blast doors closed, soldiers and crew rushed to their battle stations, and the medical staff, wiping sleep from their eyes, assembled in the surgical suite. Lighting in residential and other non-martial areas dimmed to divert energy to shields and weapons. In less than two minutes, Amanda Ray went from the near-silence of third-shift sleepiness to a bristling wakefulness.

On the bridge the surround to the main view screen pulsed red, as did all of the other viewscreens - a red alert was not to be accidentally overlooked. Captian Leigh took up her usual position in the center of the room near the back, where she could see all of the other officers without having to turn around. “All stations reporting,” said the sublieutenant, “crew is at full alert.”

A moment later the comm off broke in, “receiving on all channels, ma’am, heliocartographic, medical science, military, BIOS update, communications. It’s a fucking da,” he coughed, “it’s a data dump. I think it’s everything that’s happened in the last thirty years.”

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