There is nothing in the endless void of blackness and stars; only the silent dance of suns and planets with only the intermissions of comets and asteroids. Even after Man built the first spaceship the greatness that is space was affected little. The ugly behemoths of carbosteel and pig tin scuttle from star to star, delivering goods, picking up deliveries, or deploying troops. The stars and twisting planets take very little notice of this interstellar network, though, the achievements of Man have changed very little about the universe. Or at least that's how it was before the war...
***
Galen's eyes snapped open, the strange dreams of deep space retreating into the dark corners of his mind and the usual chill creeping from his limbs. He sat up, rubbing his head, blinking artificial sleep from his eyes. The blue light in his chamber was blinking accompanied by the honking alarm. He grumbled, placing a scarred hand on the white plastic wall of his small, tubular chamber as he pulled on underpants in no particular hurry. There was a small screen and keyboard next to the door of his chamber, he strode over and punched a button; the screen popped into life. First there was static, then an image of Ophelia waved into life.
"Galen!" barked the speaker with a crackle, "Get the fek to your station! We're four klicks out. Over."
With a pop, the screen was black once more. The alarm silenced and the light returned to a steady yellow glare. With a sigh, Galen brushed ice crystals from his hair and pushed the button to the door. It slid open with a shrill hiss and he stepped out into the hall. The corridor was long but narrow, like almost everything on the ship, with a row of pneumatic white doors lining one side and lockers on the other. It was the resting quarters for the crew of the Pariah. There were only about ten or twelve hands on the ship, though. The doors of the other engineers slid open as well; Clarke stumbled into the corridor farther down and Tet soon followed. Kelly came out of her chamber one door down; when she saw Galen she gave him that shy smile she usually gave him and crossed over to her locker. Galen walked across the cold metal grates of the floor to his own locker. The melted ice droplets clung to his skin refusing to drip down onto the floor. Gravity must be light Galen thought as he pulled on his under-suit composed of a thin rubbery unitard, then he covered himself in his uniform and boots. He turned around to look at the the progress of his fellow engineers as he buckled on his utility belt. Tet was ready and attentive, Kelly was finishing tying her hair up, and Clarke was still yanking on his uniform. Galen started giving out his orders anyway.
"Engineers, we are four klicks fron rendezvous point. Tet, Kelly, you come with me, we'll replace Damon and Marc in the Engines. Clarke, once you're ready, head to the bridge. Understood?"
"Yes sir!" they all said.
Galen led Tet and Kelly down the dim hallways down into the guts of the Pariah to the Engine Room. Clarke headed for the bridge on the other end of the ship. When Galen and his crew reached the Engines, an exhausted Marc greeted him.
'Chief, finally! About trajing time!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.
"Shift's over, Marc, go get some sleep." Galen said to him.
Damon, tossing his goggle to the side, came out of the Engine Room hatch.
"Shift done? I've been awake too long, it's time for a nap." he said as he and Marc headed away towards the resting quarters.
"Alright, people, let's get to work." Galen ordered as he pulled googles over his head and stepped into the Engine Room, "I want this girl to hold together when we dock. Kelly, can you get that screen to show the Guider feed?"
"Sure thing, Chief." she said.
Kelly stepped up on a pipe, wrenching open a pannel on the wall and began splicing wires as Galen and Tet oversaw the smoking behemoth that was the engine.
"Got it!" Kelly called as she put that pannel back in place and jumped down from the pipe.
The screen hanging from the low ceiling beam blinked into life with the blue information screen of the Guider. In the center was the grid showing the empty space surrounding the Pariah; in the bottom were the stream of jargon useful only to the Guider and the pilots; in the upper right corner was the number of klicks from their targeted destination.
"Three klicks, sir, should we give her a push?" Tet said.
"Sure, let's speed this up. I'd say push it up to 2500." Galen said, eyes still on the screen.
Tet punched a code and some data into a keyboard, then cranked on a gear to charge up the engine more. Steam hissed through some pipes overhead.
"Good, two and a half klicks now. Almost time for the hailing call. Kelly, audio work on this?" Galen called over to Kelly. Kelly was a skilled electrician and computer engineer as well as a starship mechanic, one of the few onboard able to understand the streams of command-line programming of the shipboard computers.
"Should be working, Chef." she said to him.
Two klicks now; the speakers crackled as Halon's voice– the ensign– blared through them.
"Starcarrier Celestine, this is the C.S.G.E. Pariah, clearance o-seven-seven-niner, requesting to dock, please respond. Over."
They waited for a response to come crackling back; nothing.
"I can see them, why aren't they responding?" Tet said, looking at the large dot on the screen.
Halon repeated his message, but still now response came.
"We're just a click away." Galen said, "The Guider should be able to see her by now. Kelly, reboot the feed!"
Kelly dashed away and fiddled with more wires. The screen wavered, flickered, then changed to a live view of the void in front of the Pariah. The three engineers stood beneath the screen; eyes wide and staring. Kelly gave out a gasp. The might that was the Starcarrier Celestine, one of the largest and most powerful class of ships in the galaxy, was strewn out across the space before them in shredded pieces. The bodies of the hundreds of inhabitants floated among the wreckage.
"What the fek could do this to a Starcarrier? Who would do it?" shouted Galen.
A light burst into life and a klaxon blared through the corridors: the captain wanted them all on the bridge.
***
Spacers were created by the Colonial government to be able to survive the harsh conditions and long years of space travel. They were altered to be able to withstand cryostasis and to only need the barest amount of nutrients to live. Spacers, it is rumored among the Colonies, don't age, but this has yet to be proved. Spacers are treated with suspicion and mistrust by the Colonials the rare times Spacers have interactions with Colonials. The Governance uses Spacers as pilots of freighter ships, mining vessels, and naval battlecruisers. The only ships not operated by the mysterious Spacers are the Starcarriers; the pride of the Colonies and the key to Man's future.
