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“Let’s bring this cruiser home!”
Those five words ignited a flurry of action aboard the four destroyers of DESRON 35, as the word spread that the enemy warship was clear. In the hangar of the <span class="mu-i">Longinus</span> a team of ONI scientists and xenotech specialists bullied their way aboard the first pelican out, carrying crates of equipment and other gear.
Elsewhere in the flotilla, volunteers from engineering units were shoved aboard shuttles, and sent aboard the covenant capital ship to look after it’s engines. Or at the very least, to act as the hands for the AI that was currently puppeteering the ship. Figuring out how to control the ship -either by transferring an AI aboard, or by deploying a prize crew- would be a challenge in and of itself, but it was one that could certainly be solved. Even if you had to strap the cruiser to one of the destroyers and tow the bastard back through slipspace.
But aside from the engineers and scientists heading aboard, there were also more mundane personnel too. A flight of pelicans from the <span class="mu-i">Galaxy</span> brought aboard a logistics team, along with water to sate the thirst of the horde of humans aboard the ship. Meanwhile, a corpse detail had been formed out of the remaining marines aboard the ship. They were tasked with recovering the various alien corpses across the ship, and moving them into sections that could be depressurized and frozen, so that the bodies could be recovered. Personally, you didn’t really understand that task. Enough aliens had been recovered already in this war that you doubted that anyone would gain anything from cutting up their corpses. But you had standing orders to grab them, so someone would have to do it.
Of course, you still weren’t out of the woods yet. Even if the ship was secure, and it’s sister ship had been reduced to a hunk of burning metal on a tall elliptical orbit around the system’s star, you still had to keep on your toes. You were still <span class="mu-i">technically</span> outside of UNSC controlled space, in that contested area of space that the Covenant knew about, and actively patrolled, but didn’t totally hold. Even though there weren’t any signs of standing alien installations in the star system, there was still a chance that another Covenant force could drop out of slipspace, and right onto your head.
You are commander Norman Wells. And even though you have a covenant CCS class cruiser in the palm of your hand, it only counts if you can bring her home.
>Cont 