(brooding music)
- I see you have chosen to listen, I hoped you would.
My name is Kia, some call me a guide, some a shepherd.
I prefer weaver.
If you listen carefully, you will find the thread.
"Just One Ship" by Alexander Bruce
speaks to the tenacity of humanity
even in the face of galactic war.
It is a tenacity I have seen firsthand.
I will begin my story in 18 seconds.
Now, close your eyes, take a breath, imagine,
a future so close you can almost feel it.
A world so real, you can almost touch it,
this is "Dust."
(upbeat music continues)
- The first time I laid eyes on the UTS Artemis,
I was working as a sensor technician
aboard a deep space station called Respite from Shadow.
One of the busiest shipping and transportation hubs
in the quadrant.
Our sprawling station floated at the intersection
of a dozen major FTL lanes in Imperial sector 37.
When the war broke out, our RFS became a field hospital,
strategic way point, a refugee center
and a refitting facility for our Imperium fleet,
and our allies.
That was why Artemis had come to us,
requesting permission to dock for repair.
Artemis was a Kodiak class destroyer,
part of a small expeditionary force the humans
had contributed to the Imperium's war effort.
Our allies had all sent forces
but the United Terrance Fleet show of support was noteworthy
because our commanders had actually deemed it
unsuitable for combat.
We were only a few months into the war
and already our fleet had been greatly depleted.
The earliest battles were vicious and costly.
Our commanders groomed and promoted in an era of peace time,
were more accustomed to chasing smugglers
than fighting conventional battles.
They were too heavy handed in their deployment of resources
and troops, foolishly sending retaliatory fleets
consisting of our most densely armed vessels into battle.
As a result, almost half of our heavy cruisers were lost
within a mere two weeks of combat.
And three of our seven command carriers were destroyed
by the end of the first month.
Even our most seasoned fleet commanders
couldn't have predicted a full on assault
from multiple enemies across our entire border.
And that's what happened.
(door creaking open)
It didn't take Imperium leadership long
to realize that a new strategy was called for.
Our remaining heavy cruisers were redeployed
to defend the civilian colonies from attack.
They were our shield.
Their orders had been to fend the enemy at any cost
and their crews can proudly take their place in history
for the sacrifices they made in that effort.
What followed was nothing less
than an all out fight for survival.
Make no mistake, without the support of our allies,
we would have been doomed.
When you consider all of that,
the fact that we turned down assistance from a willing ally
tells you a great deal about how the humans
were regarded at the time.
Their people were relative newcomers
on the galactic scene.
They'd only developed faster than light travel
a generation earlier so it had been deemed unreasonable
to expect them to participate in warfare
on an interstellar scale.
We were a beast, they were in a fixed barnacle
insisting we were partners, laughable, right?
Even after our empress herself formally released them
from any obligation of alliance, they came all the same.
As their ambassador said, "humanity isn't a Fairweather ally
you've got our back and we've got yours."
It was an admirable sentiment.
But as I watched the human ship clumsily approach on one
functioning engine, I can honestly say I wasn't impressed.
To me, she was the very definition of a first gen FTL vessel
created by a race too blinded by ambition
to consider the ramifications of interstellar combat.
She was a relic of antiquated design,
strategy and technology.
We were short on available space in our RFS at the time.
A farming colony about three parsecs core
had come under heavy bombardment earlier that week
and we were packed to the bulkheads with refugees.
Nevertheless, we managed to find a place for Earth's vessel
to dock on one of the lower tiers of our station.
And we even deployed a maintenance crew
to assist with repairs.
The first round of technical checks
supported my initial impression of the ship.
The Imperium inspector's first scans revealed
the power systems aboard Artemis were embarrassingly inept.
Any Imperium fleet vessel running below 95%
reactor efficiency was considered unacceptable.
Anything less than 90% was cause for internal investigation.
Artemis' reactors were only running at about 70% efficiency.
Moreover, the ship was painfully unsightly,
the pitted armor and plasma scorches that marred her hull
accentuated the ship's harsh angular shape.
Her side and AFT armor were absurdly lightweight
and her pitiful interior compartments
had fewer crew amenities
than some of our ground-based simulators.
The most substantially reinforced sections of her body
were at the bowel and along the beam,
as though her builders had been afraid
someone might drop something on her head.
We grudgingly admitted that she had
some noteworthy capabilities.
She'd obviously been built for speed and even I could admit
that her eyesore of a hull gave her
an incredibly narrow scanner cross section.
But for the most part,
we rated her slightly below a garbage hauler.
We kept that opinion to ourselves in public,
especially when the human sailors were in earshot,
but private, we all agreed that calling Artemis a warship
was an insult to real warships everywhere.
It was three days after her arrival when the attack came.
(rocket exploding)
(alarm wailing)
When the call to action stations
came over the RFS loudspeakers more than a few personnel
thought it was a joke,
laughing as they leisurely reported to their posts.
It wasn't until multiple impacts shook the station
that they realized it was no drill.
An enormous and unrecognized contact had dropped out of FTL
and immediately began firing on us.
(guns firing)
Some intermittent and dubious transmissions
identified the contact as a Rile Dreadnought
but our receivers were being bombarded with distress cries
from dozens of civilian ships desperately trying to flee.
Most were torn to pieces
before they could escape the onslaught.
(alarm beeping)
I remember the way the lights flickered
as incoming fire chewed away at the station's armor.
I could still feel the vibration of our weapons systems
through the deck plating, the point defense tourists
were doing what they could to intercept in bound missiles
while our few anti-ship batteries
tried to inflict whatever damage they could on our attacker.
But the sheer amount of debris that surrounded the station
had reduced the targeting arrays
into a dust cloud of blind spots.
When fleet command had refit the station
for military operations priority had been placed
on logistics and fleet support systems, not weaponry.
We simply were not equipped for this kind of fight.
The station's defense was the responsibility
of the half dozen gunships that patrolled the perimeter.
Those ships responded almost instantly
but had stopped transmitting only a few seconds later.
We were helpless without their protection.
And now I was watching their shattered hulls burn in space.
(debris falling)
A feeling of crushing hopelessness hung in the air
of the Respite from Shadow's operation center
as our crew watched the massive Dreadnought
bear down on us like a hungry predator.
(Dreadnought firing)
Some wept in despair,
others stared dumbly out the main view ports
though I'm proud to say I was one of the few
to remain at his post even I
couldn't see a way to survive the attack.
All I could do was direct any departing vessels
onto clear outbound flight paths and hope
they were fast enough to avoid the Dreadnought's fire.
The humans, as it turned out,
weren't about to give into despair.
The station's central hub had shielded Artemis
from incoming fire.
The battle was less than a minute old
when the humans fired up their vessels drive reactors
and rumbled like a caged animal in her birth.
They ignited her main engines a heartbeat later
transmitting a single message as she lept
from the docking arm, "save everyone you can," they told us,
"we'll hold them off."
At first, I couldn't imagine
what the humans hoped to accomplish.
The enemy vessel was enormous.
Roughly eight times the size of Artemis
and boasted artillery to the gills.
It was stronger than she could ever hope to defeat,
or so I thought.
(Artemis firing)
The mystery of the Artemis' wasted reactor output
was answered as she suddenly unleashed
a breathtaking display of military firepower.
(guns firing)
Multiple point defense batteries came to life
filling the space around with micro kinetic projectiles
that easily shredded the incoming Rile torpedoes.
Rows of launch tubes opened up along her sides
releasing swarms of agile rockets
that seemed to slip right past the Rile shields.
(rocket exploding)
Most devastating were the pair
of magnetic accelerator cannons
that had risen from her foreign aft.
(Artemis firing)
Each cannon tore into the Dreadnought skeleton
with an unyielding barrage of high velocity shells
smoothly tracking their targets
as Artemis dodged the incoming fire.
Her greatest flaw had become her key asset.
Whereas once she had been puny she was now nimble,
same ship, same size but I was seeing her anew.
Try as it might, the Rile simply couldn't maintain
a steady firing solution on the evasive Artemis.
Watching the battle in astonishment.
I suddenly understood just how wrong I'd been about her.
How wrong we had all been.
And now my shame wrestled with my awe
as I witnessed the tiny warship fight
with the fury of an Imperium battle cruiser.
The Dreadnought was focused solely on the pesky Artemis
as the two vessels traded blows
and we took full advantage of this distraction.
One by one, every ship still connected to our station
was loaded to capacity with people and supplies
and launched the instant it received clearance.
The relief from incoming fire
made the evacuation process one of pure logistics.
Soon all the large transports had safely escaped
and we were down to the last available options,
trade vessels, courier ships and private yachts.
Even cargo haulers if their holds were pressurized
would suffice at this point.
With every vessel we filled and launched the reality
that we wouldn't be able to save everyone became clearer.
Even after the last ship had departed
packed bulkhead to bulkhead with refugees
there were still thousands of beings in need of transport.
With nowhere left the flee,
I accepted those might be my final moments.
If I were to die, I could think of
no greater memory to carry into the hereafter
than the sight of Artemis fighting for our survival.
Despite her ferocity she couldn't hold out forever.
Too soon her firepower began to dwindle
as her ammunition reserves ran dry.
Rather than strike Artemis down the Rile seemed
to decide she was no longer a threat.
Arrogantly, almost disdainfully,
the Dreadnought turned away from the smaller ship.
Moving closer to our helpless station
it brought its main cannons to bear.
Each of the guns was almost a quarter
of the Rile ship's length too slow
to use against smaller vessels, but more than capable
of obliterating us in a single strike.
With those massive cannons zeroed in on us
I felt as though the deck was falling away beneath my feet.
My vision was fixated on the approaching Dreadnought so much
that I almost didn't notice when Artemis silently turned
to face our attacker, brought her engines to full power
and violently accelerated.
(Artemis firing)
What I learned that day,
what our enemies would painfully learn again and again
was that humans are never deadlier than when you threaten
those they've sworn to protect.
The Rile, seeming to take notice of the human vessel
once again unleashed everything it had at her.
(guns firing)
Though anti-ship torpedoes clawed at her
already weakened dorsal line and breaching the hull
and exposing entire decks to the vacuum of space
she was unstoppable.
Her heart was protected by the heavily reinforced
bow plating we'd all dismiss so readily.
Her courageous engines blazed as she closed the distance
building more and more speed behind her 12,000 ton stature.
(Artemis firing)
By the time the rile understood her intent,
she was too close for it to react.
Artemis was at flank speed when her unbreakable bow
pierced the Dreadnought's hull and snapped it back
in one of the bravest maneuvers I will ever witness.
(ships clashing)
After the wreckage had settled, I remember scanning Artemis
hoping that some of her crew may have survived.
Though I couldn't detect any vital signs amidst the field
of debris, I did pick up a major gravity spike.
Someone or something was redirecting her onboard power.
Devoting what little output the reactor still had
to ramping up and unexpectedly powerful FTL drive.
I wasn't the only one to notice the increased energy output.
Watching from the station I could feel the Rile's fear
as dozens of smaller ships
began pouring out of its launch base.
When Artemis' core reached critical mass
a few seconds later there was a pause.
Just for a moment as if she wanted those Rile cowards
to believe they might actually get away.
Then she ended it.
Firing her FTL drive without field containment
she ripped a hole in the skin of the universe
and personally dragged her enemies into hell.
(Artemis firing)
(upbeat music)
They'd been eight times the size of the human vessel.
And from the moment she bared her teeth
they never stood a chance.
That day, the entire galaxy paused and took note.
Don't ever underestimate human beings.
(upbeat music)
- One, a powerful number.
Enough to change history.
One person, one deed, one choice.
I hope you've listened carefully.
The choice may yet await.
To know more use the subscription mechanism.
Performed by Aaron Cabot, "Just One Ship" was directed
and produced by Raul Vega, of Phantom Eighth Productions.
"Dust" is produced by Steven Michael, at Gunpowder & Sky.
"Dust" is executive produced by Loris Bauer,
van Toff ler, and Eric Bromberg, at Gunpowder & Sky.
Associate produced by Sarah Newton and RV Burglar.
The producers wish to thank Jake McCarthy,
Hellen Ladler and Mark Holden.
(upbeat music)