Resolution: Bad Star
Page 5
“Aye, sir.”
* * *
The personnel carrier was on the flight deck by the time Harper arrived. He was equipped with light body armor and a sub-machine gun, though he probably wouldn’t touch it for the length of the mission. In tight quarters, Harper preferred to use his side arm. As he approached the shuttle, its engines roared to life. He could see the compliment of five Navy SSEALs that would be accompanying him were standing by the hatch. Before he reached them, he was met by Chief Petty Officer Darrel Kelly.
Kelly was a short man with dark skin and a shaved head. His lack of stature was compensated for by his frightening bulk. He wore wrap-around sunglasses, which Harper wondered if he ever took off, and a perpetual ear to ear grin. He was standing with his rifle aimed up, the stock held against his shoulder with one hand on the pistol grip.
“Ready to do this, Commander,” he asked rhetorically. More of a pep talk than a question, Harper supposed.
“Chief, this isn’t likely to be much of anything. We’re only bringing a few SSEALs along just in case. I really don’t think you’re needed,” Harper shouted over the deafening whine of the engines.
“And miss the chance to stretch my legs a bit? Besides, industrial insertion is one of my specialties,” Kelly replied, not letting the smile falter for a moment.
“Alright, but keep in mind, I’m taking point on this mission,” Harper replied, returning the smile.
“Copy that,” Kelly shouted before turning to his troops. “Mount up!”
Harper followed them in and closed the hatch behind him, as the shuttle lifted off and glided forward towards the end of the flight deck.
* * *
As the shuttle skimmed the surface of the dwarf planet, Harper stepped up to the pilot’s chair, holding onto an overhead bracket for support. The outer walls of the crater grew in the forward viewport.
“Reduce speed as we climb the crater walls. The second we’re over the mouth of the crater I want a full view of the facility,” he explained. The pilot, Petty Officer 1st Class Stone, according to his rank insignia and name tape, silently obliged. He brought the shuttle into a slow roll, leaving it inverted over the cavernous mouth of the crater. Only emergency lighting was on, giving the facility a ghostly aura. Debris was still slowly floating out of the crater, which Harper was eventually able to trace back to one of the main cargo ports. The pirates had left a timed explosive on the port in hopes of preventing a pursuit.
“There,” he said, pointing to hanger bay doors high in the crater walls. “The security hanger will be our best access point.”
“How will we get in? The doors are locked,” the pilot explained after entering a command into the console to his left. The console returned a red screen with the words:
Restricted Access.
“Just a second,” Harper replied with a sigh, as he removed his personal data pad from his belt and placed it on the screen. The small, flat, device lit up instantly, requesting his authorization code, and he entered it with practiced ease. The shuttle's console screen emitted a reassuring tone as it turned green and its previous message of denied entrance changed to:
Military Override Accepted.
“This facility is a key military resource and a major potential target. The military has to have unfettered access,” Harper replied to the pilot’s unrestrained shock. He casually lifted his device and replaced it on his belt as he watched the doors open. “Take her in slowly.”
The shuttle turned towards the doors and its forward lights scanned over the darkened interior of the hanger bay. Dark, he thought, these pirates may have done more damage than we anticipated.
The shuttle slowly glided into the hanger, and Harper felt the shuttle jerk as it crossed through a containment field and began to encounter air resistance. It wasn’t uncommon for commercial interests with close ties to the military to have access to some of the same technologies, even the newest ones. The shuttle settled on the hangar floor with a dull thud. To Harper’s chagrin, the small band of SSEALs had the hatch open and had boots on the ground a fraction of a second later. “Stay here and guard the shuttle,” Harper called over his shoulder to Stone as he followed them out.
"Yes, sir." Harper appreciated the acknowledgement of authority. From his brief encounter with Stone, he had the impression that he was a very capable soldier, but as much of a cowboy as the typical SSEAL. They had already activated the lights on the end of their rifles and sub-machine guns, and were scanning the all but empty hanger when he stepped out of the shuttle.
Harper pulled a tactical light off his belt with his left hand and aimed the beam forward with his hand at shoulder height. The SSEALs followed him to the elevator, and the car was still sitting where the security personnel had left it before scrambling to their patrol craft. Knowing full well what the result would be, he hit the button next to the elevator to no effect. No power, he thought, chastising himself silently for the embarrassment.
He stepped to the right of the elevator and lightly pulled on the handle of a small access panel. There was no vacuum resistance, meaning there were no unsealed breaches in the levels below. He crouched down and peered down the elevators maintenance shaft. “Chief Kelly,” he called out without looking up.
“Copy that,” Kelly replied with a smile and offered a length of Kevlar rope which he had already secured to a nearby bracket. Harper glanced at the colored hash marks on the rope, green, indicating a length of 200 feet. Just over the length they would need to safely descend to the end of the shaft in the main hall.
“Do you always carry this with you,” he asked.
“Semper paratus, Commander.” Always ready.
Harper accepted the offer and tossed one end of the rope down the shaft. He attached a clip on his body armor to the line, before nodding to his team and dropping into the shaft, facing the panel opening. He counted to himself and slightly lifted his legs as the high-pitched whirring brought him closer to the end of his controlled descent. When his boots hit the ground, he flexed his knees to cushion his landing, and quickly un-holstered his side arm, supporting his firing wrist on his left, which held the outturned tactical light. He detached himself from the rope and shouted, “Clear!”
He exited the shaft and waited to hear six pairs of boots land behind him, one at a time, before continuing forward. “On me.” As the team surged forward, the beams from their lights splashed over the walls of the dark hallway. Occasional sparks from blown power conduits and flickering technical readout screens filled the hallway with blinding flashes of light. Two hundred yards from where the team had descended to the main level, they came into a cavernous room.
One wall was covered in computer monitors, but the rest of the room was obscured with a smoky haze, fed by bursting steam pipes in the back. The team stepped in, each scanning their own section for hostiles.
“How the hell are you back so soon,” A voice came from behind the steam. The entire team turned with weapons drawn towards the voice, as a figure of average height stepped through the steam, donning a reflective heat resistant garment and helmet. “Put those damn things away,” the figure shouted gruffly as it removed the helmet.
Harper instantly recognized it as the mining facility’s foreman, William Huff. He was 56, well built for his age, and had white hair that came down to his shoulders. His face betrayed his age and the hard labor he had subjected himself to through his career. Removing his gloves, he revealed worn and calloused hands. He stared at the team with a grimace as they lowered their weapons. “Well, did you get‘em?”
Harper glanced at Kelly. “Get who?”
“The damn pirates! You said you would…” Huff was cut short when he glanced at the patch on Harper’s arm. “You’re not from the Saratoga?”
“No, we’re from the Resolution,” Harper replied.
“Cut the feed, it’s turning into an oven in here,” Huff shouted over his shoulder, and a few moments later the smoke pouring from the pipes reduced, then all but disa
ppeared.
“Mister Huff, was someone from the Saratoga here?”
“Yeah, they got here right after the attack,” He answered, almost uninterested.
“When was the attack?”
“’bout an hour ago."
“We found a trail of ship debris leading away from here. Did your security detail pursue the pirates?”
“Yeah, Saratoga crew already told me they didn’t make it.”
“I’d like to talk to the security chief.”
“He’s dead. Died in the decompression when those bastards blew up the loading dock. Made off with a third of our next shipment. I told the security detail to go after them.” Harper struggled to not let his anger to the surface. Security had no business chasing after armed pirates. To make matters worse, their ships weren’t armored with Fomalanium despite the mining company’s unrivaled profits. Harper took some solace in the fact that, with their superior officer killed, the security team would have given chase with or without orders to do so.
“Where is the Saratoga now?”
“They went after the pirates too. They had taken some of my employees aboard for medical treatment. Then the officer they had here said he had to get back to the ship. Apparently, they picked up a trail and went to follow it. I need those miners back down there as soon as we get the feeds to the machinery patched up.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Harper said sarcastically as he turned and tapped his earpiece.
“Go ahead, Commander,” McLeod’s voice sounded over his earpiece.
“Captain, you were right. The facility was attacked by pirates approximately one hour ago.”
“Any casualties?”
“The security C.O. was killed in the initial attack, and the officers that survived pursued the pirates of course. A few miners were injured.”
“Alright, we’ll get the sick bay ready to receive the injured.”
“That won’t be necessary, Captain. The Saratoga picked them up.”
“Where are they now?”
“Apparently, they found a trail left by the pirates and went after them.”
“Sato, is there any sign of the Saratoga on RLADAR,” Harper heard him call across the bridge.
“Negative, sir,” Sato said, adding his voice to the conversation. “Nearest outpost says they haven’t received a transponder signal from them in nearly thirty minutes.”
“What about this trail they picked up,” Harper asked.
“Already checked, Commander. Any ion trail from sub-light engines would have dissipated by now anyway.”
“Captain, if the Saratoga has been unreachable for that long, they could be in serious trouble.”
“Agreed, but without being able to see the trail they followed, we have no way of finding them.”
Harper pulled his personal data pad from his belt and poured over information on the Fomalhaut system. “Mister Huff, what kind of vessel attacked you?”
Huff scratched his head for a moment as he tried to remember. “Looked like a Lupus class.”
“Captain, the vessel involved in the attack was a Lupus class. It’s a system rated vessel and can barely make 10 Cs.”
“That means it wouldn’t be able to leave the system without joining a larger vessel.”
“Exactly, and I think I know exactly where it would have gone to wait.”
* * *
Harper gazed out the forward viewport at the asteroid belt that encircled the Fomalhaut system. The frequent meteorite assaults that the dwarf planet suffered originated from this wide ring, and the resulting dust from the impacts were flung back into the field. This dust made communications and sensor readings impossible from inside.
“A small vessel like a Lupus class could safely navigate in there with the right pilot, but do you think Captain Taft would be reckless enough to follow,” McLeod inquired.
“It’s the only explanation I can come up with,” Harper replied.
“Well, we certainly can’t do the same. The Fomalite ore in there will rip our ship to pieces.”
“Our only option is to send in the fighters. We have to find the Saratoga, and if possible apprehend the pirates.”
“Agreed. Help Parker brief the pilots. We’ll launch in thirty minutes. Sato, inform the deck crew to prepare for launch.”
* * *
Parker stepped up to the podium and glanced back at Harper and Glenn, who were standing to her right. The dull murmur of the pilot’s conversations died down when she began.
“For those of you who aren’t aware, the Fomalhaut mining facility was attacked at approximately 1300 by unknown pirates. Shortly afterwards, the U.N.S. Saratoga arrived and pursued the pirates into the asteroid field. You will be splitting into two groups and searching the field in opposite directions. Your first priority is locating the Saratoga, and exiting the field to make contact with the Resolution so we can assist in removing the ship from danger.”
Harper stepped forward and nodded at Parker as she yielded the floor. “If you locate the pirates before you locate the Saratoga, you are authorized to attempt to apprehend them. However, you must use caution. They are unusually well armed and have already proven they are willing to respond with violence. That being said, we want them apprehended, not destroyed. If you can't accomplish this, retreat.”
Parker and Harper stepped back and allowed Glenn to approach the podium. “As you may know, the dust in this asteroid field will make communication beyond twenty kilometers impossible, so we won’t be receiving commands from flight operations. You will be taking all of your commands from your wing leader. I’ll be taking wing one and I’ve put Philly in charge of wing two. Get to your fighters, and good hunting.”
* * *
“We’re officially out of communications range with Resolution. Remember to keep your maneuvers to a minimum, this search could take a while and we don’t want to run short on fuel,” Glenn called out over the flight group COM channel.
A voice he couldn’t quite identify over the static called back, “May be easier said than done. These asteroids are in constant motion.” Glenn considered responding but accepted that his order was moot. He knew his pilots would do their best to avoid collisions without wasting fuel. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, he couldn’t help but enjoy the nonlinear flight path necessitated by the constantly changing asteroid field.
His group spinned and arched through the asteroids, leaving dizzying contrails of thruster blasts as they surged forward. Safely navigating while keeping a watchful eye for any sign of the pirates or the missing ship was the kind of challenge that brought a fire back into the soul of a pilot of Glenn’s caliber.
He executed a barrel roll and a sharp blast of his ventral thrusters to avoid a large asteroid. Immediately after his close call, Glenn’s canopy was lit by a bright flash from ahead. When his vision recovered, Glenn could see the shape of the Saratoga through the debris. Another large asteroid, freshly broken apart by a direct blast from the Saratoga’s forward cannon, was flying in the opposite direction.
As soon as he was in range, Glenn turned on his short-wave radio and began calling out to the Saratoga. “U.N.S. Saratoga, this is Orion of the U.N.S. Resolution fighter squadron, please respond.”
He waited for a moment and prepared to transmit again when a high pitched static hiss filled his helmet and a voice broke through. “Orion, this is Saratoga, we read you.”
Glenn was flying along the Saratoga’s starboard hull. There was a large breach in the hull covering at least two decks, clearly caused by an asteroid collision. He could also make out scorching from laser weapons. “Saratoga, can we get a situation report.”
The voice from the Saratoga seemed exhausted and unfocused. “Uh, we have hull breaches across three decks, we believe about five dead, and twenty injured. We have no propulsion and we’re running low on ammunition to hold off these asteroids. Is the Resolution in here too?”
“Negative, Saratoga. Resolution is waiting outside the f
ield for our report. We’ll get you help shortly.”
Another voice broke into the conversation, “Orion, look!” The statement was vague, but Glenn’s eyes were immediately drawn to the bright spot in the asteroid field ahead. He squinted his eyes and the HUD in his visor correctly interpreted the gesture, giving him an enhanced close-up of the luminous object. Upon closer inspection, the point of light was an ion thruster at full burn. Just beyond the point of light, he could make out the silhouette of a Lupus class vessel.
Glenn had to make a snap decision, stay with the Saratoga, or pursue the pirate vessel. “Nova, get out of the asteroid field and alert Resolution to our position. I’m going after them.”
“But, our orders were-, “ the pilot with the call sign “Nova” started to object.
“Now! I’m giving you an order. Get to it!” Glenn immediately applied the throttle and skimmed along the hull of the Saratoga as it passed faster with each second. He was soon gliding gracefully through the asteroid field with more intensity then he had during the search for the missing ship. The communications silence left nothing but the sound of his own adrenaline hastened heartbeat throbbing in his helmet.
There was no sign of the pirate vessel as of yet, but Glenn had no worries about finding them with the significant head start. At full throttle, they would be easy to spot with their single overpowered ion thruster, and being a larger civilian vessel with no tactical thrusters, it would have to slow down to maneuver around the asteroids.
Glenn heaved a sigh and glanced at his RLADAR. He had to do a double take as he caught a glimpse of a fluctuating contact on the screen. The contact reappeared and displayed a small U.N.C. transponder signal. He shook his head, a gesture purely self-indulgent, as no one could see him in his cockpit. “Headcase, is that you?”
Another fighter pulled into position next to him. Glenn looked over into the other craft and saw the pilot wave at him. Though the visor hid his face, Glenn could imagine Headcase’s trademark, shit-eating grin. “Yeah, it’s me boss.”