| Object | Distance from star | Orbital speed |
| Pluto | ~5.9 billion kilometres | 4.67 kilometres per second |
| Mercury | 57 million kilometres | 47.3 kilometres per second |
| Artifact 4 | Really close | Really frakking fast |
BATTLESTAR - PLANNING ROOM - INT."That's not even
close to a useful metric. How fast is it going,
Dawn To Dusk? You're my mapper, damn it, I need you to know
exactly how fast things are going!"
Dawn looks at me with the expression of extreme exasperation as he has been ever since this chase begun — the face of someone who is truly starting to hate someone. "For the last time, you useless vegetable, it's right next to a
frakking star. It's fast as hell and it's hot as hell and there's no way we're going to be able to get it."
"I don't like your negativity, Dawn."
"Noted, Captain."
"We're going to get that thing before anyone else does it. That ship full of fish will probably just splash water on the star until it's cold enough and just swoop in and grab it."
Dawn makes exactly the same expression, but somehow doubled. "Do you... do you even know what a star is?"
"I know enough to know how to get that Artifact."
BATTLESTAR - ENGINE ROOM - INT.The civilians that we've rescued are bunched up in every corner of the ship. A network of corridors and expansive rooms lack the military personnel that would normally fill them, and the civilians have gathered wherever it's warmest. Mostly near the engine. A heavy steel door slides open and I step into the room, arms raised as if to accept applause from an adoring crowd.
"Greetings, civilians!" I call out over the crowd. The room falls silent and every eye turns to look at me.
"Please, we're hungry—" one of them starts, but I silence him with a glare.
"You'll get your food after we get something we need. Do any of you know what a Viper is?"
Silence.
"A Viper is a little spaceship with guns that goes very fast and shoots stuff. There's a whole bunch of them on this Battlestar that're supposed to defend it. Do any of you think you can pilot one?"
Two hands go up.
"Have any of you ever flown a ship? Driven a car? Rode a bike?"
At each question, a few more hands go up.
I smile. "Perfect. Everyone with your hands up, go to the hangar bay."
BATTLESTAR - EXT.After that bastard CleanOnion and his shitty crew shoved us volunteers into the tiny little fighter-ships and launched us out of fighter-ship-cannons on the side of the Battlestar, we were presented with the sight of a star right in front of us.
Not in the far distance like it's supposed to be — no, right in front of us. Even from sat inside my fighter-ship I could feel its pull. The windows of the ship, fortunately, seemed to be pretty good at limiting how much light got in — they were enough to stop me from being blinded.
"Okay." comes CleanOnion's snide, know-it-all voice from the radio. "You and the 30 other volunteer ships are going to get that Artifact and bring it back to the ship."
I press the button that'll let me talk back. "We're way too close to the star. We'll melt. The Battlestar has the thickest hull, why can't you get it?"
"Because the Battlestar is the most important, we can't risk losing it. If one or two Vipers melt, no problem."
I slam my hand back onto the button. "You what? Each of these ships contains a
human life. You're happy to just let us melt?"
"How about... you don't melt?" Onion says. "Good luck."
Good luck indeed. I have no choice but to resign myself to getting this Artifact. He and his crew have complete control over us.
UNREGISTERED STAR 38.A - EXT.My targeting systems picked up the Artifact about a minute later, heading towards us at unthinkable speeds. If we want to grab it without it smashing out ships apart — and without being pulled right into the fiery depths of hell itself — we'll have to match its orbit speed.
"Accelerate!" I yell into the radio. I see thirty engines flare into life as we try to speed away from the Artifact.
As it draws closer and closer I begin to see the Artifact in more detail. It's nothing like the last one — almost like it was made by a completely different civilisation with a completely different understanding of what technology is. It's like a crystal, red and triangular, and about as long as one of our tiny ships. It speeds past us. I grip the speed-lever on the control panel and push it as far forward as it'll go. The Artifact seems to stop moving, then begins to move very slowly towards me. We're almost at the same speed.
My hand rests over the speed-lever-thing, carefully adjusting it, speeding up and slowing down to match its speed. I align myself carefully alongside it, and signal for someone else to do the same on the other side. Someone does so.
Sadly, not everyone is quite as delicate. Some rando comes smashing down into the Artifact and knocks it out of our sychronised orbit.
"You useless swine!" I yell into the communicator, and try to find the Artifact on the scanner. It doesn't take long — its headed almost directly for the star. It'll take less than a minute for it to reach the surface.
Without thinking I swing my ship around and head at full thrust towards it. My engines, coupled with the gravitational pull of the star, suck me right towards it. I spin around as best I can and push in the opposite direction. My engines are no match for the star, but relative to the Artifact I start to slow down.
I align myself in front of it. We're travelling at the same speed. I need to get it back to the ship.
One by one, I turn on each of the Viper's weapon systems. They each take a few seconds to prime. They're the only hope I have.
I press all of the buttons at the same time. The ship unleashes a volley of blasts and explosives, all aimed directly at the Artifact. An explosion covers my vision, and when it clears, all I can see is that the Artifact is soaring away from me.
I try to accelerate away from the star, but with creeping horror I realise that I'm already at maximum acceleration. My insides go cold.
BATTLESTAR - PLANNING ROOM - INT."Captain." Dawn reports. "Artifact secured. One of the civilians literally shot it and it ricocheted right into our hangar."
"Cool." I reply. "Any casualties?"
"One."
"Perfect, one less mouth to feed. Rations time."
