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Escape from Pittman
Day 1: Deployment to Pittman
We were in orbit over Pittman when the orders came down. The situation on the surface was deteriorating fast. The M.D.F. garrison was holding off an unidentified alien force, but they couldn’t last much longer without support. Captain Harper and I briefed the crew, our mission was clear: drop our Marine complement and provide orbital support for as long as necessary.
The USS Liberty is a Sierra-class Assault Ship, built for exactly this kind of operation. We’ve done countless orbital insertions before, but something about this one felt different. The reports coming from the surface were vague, almost like no one really knew what we were up against. The alien force was fast, advanced, and unpredictable.
We launched the pods and watched as they screamed down through the atmosphere, each one carrying Marines who had no idea what awaited them on the ground. Our job now was to hold position and provide cover.
At least, that was the plan.
Day 2: First Contact
Less than 24 hours after the drop, things started going wrong. It wasn’t the surface assault that worried us, our boys on the ground were reporting heavy resistance, but nothing we hadn’t prepared them for. No, the real problem came from above.
The first contact was a distortion, something flickering on the edge of our long-range sensors. The task force’s other ships picked it up too, but before we could identify it, they were on us. A fleet of unknown ships appeared, coming out of nowhere, moving faster than anything we have seen before. Their attack was swift and brutal.
The USS Javelin and USS Olympus Mons, the two destroyers escorting us, were hit within minutes. I watched on the tactical display as their hulls fractured under the intense firepower. Whatever these ships were, their technology was beyond anything we’d ever encountered.
Captain Harper ordered evasive maneuvers, but the Liberty was not exactly built for speed. We launched everything we had, but it barely made a dent. The alien vessels were dancing around our defenses like we were standing still.
Day 2: Desperate Escape
It became clear very quickly that we couldn’t win this fight. The Olympus disintegrated in front of us, torn apart by sustained energy fire. The Javelin didn’t last much longer. Captain Harper gave the order to shift all power to shields and engines, we had to break free of the combat zone if we were going to survive.
Captain Harper’s voice was steady, but I could see the strain in his eyes. We’d left the Marines on the surface, and now there was no way to help them. As we started pulling away from the planet’s gravity well, I caught a glimpse of the M.D.F. communication relay, its signal was flickering, disrupted by the chaos below and above. They were on their own.
With the engines at full burn, we finally managed to break through the enemy blockade. Their ships pursued us for a time, but for reasons I still don’t understand, they broke off the chase once we cleared the atmosphere. Maybe they weren’t interested in us, or maybe they had other priorities on Pittman. I don’t know, but I’m grateful. We were the only ship to make it out.
Day 3: Regrouping in Deep Space
We’re adrift in deep space now, far from Pittman. Our jump drives were damaged in the attack, and repairs are underway, but it’s slow going. The engineering team is working round the clock, but we’ve lost some key systems. Our long-range communication array is out, so we’re effectively cut off. I’ve sent out distress pings using our emergency comms, but it could be days before anyone finds us.
The mood on the bridge is tense. We’ve lost contact with the Marines and the M.D.F. forces on Pittman, and there’s no way to know what’s happening down there. Captain Harper is holding things together, but I can tell he’s as frustrated as I am. We were supposed to be their lifeline, and now we’re limping through the void, trying to stay alive ourselves.
I’ve had a hard time shaking the mental playback of the attack, the way those alien ships moved, the destruction they caused in mere moments. We’ve faced hostile human forces before, but this… this was something else entirely. I can’t help but wonder what’s happening on the surface. Are our Marines still fighting? Have they encountered the same aliens? I’ve never felt so powerless.
Day 4: Damage Report and Survival
We’re still running dark, avoiding any possible detection while repairs continue. The Liberty ’s damage is extensive, but we’ve managed to restore partial propulsion. Life support is stable, but our weapons systems are shot. If we encounter those alien ships again, we won’t stand a chance.
Captain Harper and I had a long conversation today about our next move. Without comms, we can’t call for reinforcements, and even if we could, it might be too late for Pittman. The decision was made to head for the nearest transit point, hoping we can find a way to repair the tunnel drive and get back to friendly space. It’s not an easy call to make leaving Pittman behind like this, but there’s nothing we can do for them now.
Day 5: The Long Wait
Repairs are nearly complete, but the crew is restless. The silence out here is oppressive, broken only by the hum of the engines and the occasional chatter from the engineering team. I’ve taken to walking the corridors of the Liberty during the quieter shifts, trying to keep morale up. People need to see that we’re still in control, that we’re not adrift in more ways than one.
We’ve drifted farther from 279 G. Sagittari, and though we’re heading out of the system, it feels like we’re leaving something behind that we’ll never get back. The weight of what’s happened, what’s still happening on Pittman, sits heavily on all of us. We don’t talk about it, but it’s there. The uncertainty, the fear of the unknown enemy.
Captain Harper and I both know that once we make the jump, everything will change. The fleet will have to respond, and Pittman may be the first of many battles to come.
Day 6: The Transit
The tunnel drive is online.
It took longer than expected, and we’ve been running on borrowed time out here. But the drift to the outer edge hopefully gave us the window to tunnel out of the system undetected. Supplies are running low, and the constant fear of those alien ships returning has worn everyone down. But now, the jump is ready, and we’re set to leave this system behind. The crew is eager to go, but there’s an unspoken tension hanging over the bridge.
As we prepare to initiate the jump, I can’t help but think about the Marines we left on the surface. They went down there knowing we’d be their backup, but now they’re alone, facing an enemy we barely understand. It’s not easy to live with that.
We’ll be jumping to Sector Delta, where we hope to find a repair station and get full communication back online. Once we do, I know there will be a full debrief, questions about what happened at Pittman, why only the Liberty survived, and what we faced out here. I don’t have all the answers, but I know one thing for sure: this may be war, if that’s what it is, just beginning.
For now, all we can do is survive. And pray that the forces on Pittman can do the same.