Katerina was out of action until her bullet wound healed, so every Banshee who could be spared was needed, excepting myself. Marin forbade me to join the team, volunteering to take my place as an honorary Banshee.
Leilani asked Chandrapati to join them. Raul and Thieu were called back from the Excalibur. She was teaching Marin how to turn of other people’s comm units and open doors, but it was most likely she would be dealing with the injured and demented on the transports as they were extracted. The Banshees would be wearing oil-soaked pressure suits, since coloured pajamas would not protect them in a bug-infested ship.
The Mao only carried four transports, sufficient to drop her forty marines onto an asteroid, plus ten two-seat fighters and a few unpowered lifeboats. This was sufficient to evacuate the entire crew of the Mao, with the transports towing the lifeboats, provided there was something nearby big enough to provide safe harbour.
There were also four bays so that commercial transports could resupply the ship without disturbing the military equipment. They were empty, since the Mao had refused docking to all commercial transports since the start of the crisis.
Wang had called back the two transports from the Deng and the one that had been sent to the Excalibur carrying Raul and Thieu. The transport carrying Katerina and the injured MI officers was nearly back at the Mao, ready for refueling. He was keeping one of our transports in reserve and had assurances that the Excalibur would come to our aid in the event of disaster. With three transports borrowed from the Deng, the docking bays would be nearly full.
The Manila Bay carried its own complement of transports, fighters and lifeboats, but apparently had lost too much control to deploy any of them. In principle, they should still have three empty bays, allowing all six of our transports to dock, stacked one on top of the other. If the Manila Bay was accelerating, it would be a nuisance moving injured people between transports, even worse if it was wobbling as it went.
Our transports on the Deng had refuelled while they were waiting and their navs did not spare the power in the race back to the Mao. The three transports from the Deng trailed along behind as their crews scrambled aboard and lifted out of their bays.
I felt helpless sitting in MI, but agreed I could not be one of the Banshees. This was someone else’s war, someone else’s command. The most I could do was record the event as it unfolded. I put in a request for stim-laden beverages for everyone on the transports, feeling like a helpless civilian watching the army muster for battle. No food, though. If conditions were bad on the Manila Bay, no one would want a full stomach going in. I watched the activity through the security cameras and by listening to the chatter on the comm.
The six transports arrived and there was a great rush on the dock as everyone found their new transport and boarded. The clean suits were distributed with the instructions that they could hold air briefly, but they were intended to be used in a lab with an inexhaustible supply through the wall-mounted air hoses, so five minutes in hard vacuum would exhaust their built-in supplies. This was not a problem for the crew who all wore powered armour, but the Banshees would have to be careful not to linger in airless spaces.
I noticed with some amusement that Com Thieu insisted vehemently that she would com the transport carrying Raul, and that she would accompany him when they entered the Manila Bay because the two of them together knew more about disabling tokens than anyone else in the expedition. The commander in charge finally gave in and swapped the coms on the two transports.
Our small fleet of transports pulled away from the Mao and moved off in formation towards the distant, stricken ship. The Manila Bay was no longer holding its assigned station, which would have required a small expenditure of fuel to remain near the Deng during their resupply. It had been drifting, quite close to the Mao when it had fired the missile, but now over a thousand kilometres away. Checking the logs, there had been only sporadic communications for almost two days, and I wondered if they had been under emoji attack for the whole time, with their comm turned on and off by an external enemy.
As the transports approached, they sent back video on a private MI news feed. It was clear immediately that the Manila Bay was in trouble, covered with an irregular coat of black patches from bow to stern. All three of the empty docking bays were covered with thick sheets of glue bugs. As the transports drew nearer, a small, dark, human figure could be seen standing on the outer hull in one of the black patches, blocking access to one of the docking bays.
The navs had a quick discussion and agreed to stack the transports three deep on the two remaining bays. One of the engs observed that the crew member on the hull must be glued in place, because no one could stand on the side of the hull with the ship under acceleration, especially when it was rocking around. He added that this must be the hero who sent the mayday. He immediately volunteered to handle the rescue.
There was another discussion on how to dock when the bays were covered with glue bugs, but the one of the engs from the Excalibur laughingly pointed out that they knew exactly what would work: burn them off the hull using the ion drives that powered the transports. It was just a big version of the cleaning they had done inside the Excalibur, using transports filled with people instead of the small drive. I was suddenly grateful to be safe on the Mao, but the navs seemed confident and immediately began discussing their approach.
The Mao had her own video feeds from telescopes deployed near the bow, so I switched to one of them. I watched the six ships separate into two lines that swung around the Manila Bay. They made close passes that blasted the hull with their drives, slipping past with only metres separating the transports from the irregular motions of the larger ship. I could only admire their skill, having myself piloted freighters and transports. And once, to my sorrow, a fighter.
The transports pulled up close to the Manila Bay’s docking ports. Three small figures popped out. They were in the standard colours of powered armour for engineers, so could not have been wearing the clean suits. I hoped they had slathered on enough of the lubricant to be protected from glue bugs. Two of them dropped to the docking bays and began manually cleaning away the remaining bugs. The third moved over to the blackened figure on the third bay. There was a lot of comm chatter that the system separated into individual text messages on the monitor. I guessed that we were under a higher security protocol, because nobody was identified by name, only a number.
[1] Pockets of bugs everywhere. Even with supplemental magnets, our boots barely hold.
[2] Probably some live ones under the crust, clean them to bare steel.
[1] Quite deep near the airlocks.
[3] Our hero is coated in them. We cannot bring him into the transport this way.
[4] I will bring a body bag. Stuff him in, fill it with air, strip off the suit, open the bag briefly to toss out the suit, close it and bring him into the transport. He can handle vacuum for a few seconds.
[3] Cleaning his mask. He is trying to talk, but his outgoing comm seems to be blocked.
[1] Clean the lasers as well.
[2] Airlock surfaces are now clean but pitted. Looks like acid corrosion. We will have to inject foam to keep the seal tight.
[5] Seal the outer rim of the airlocks after we dock. Makes undocking a bit rougher, but it would surely be better than tearing free from the glue.
[1,2] Will do.
[3] Keeps asking me to let him die. This guy is mad with fear, but does not have the new comm. Looks like the suit is unresponsive.
[1] Suit must be new and vulnerable to a token attack. It is lucky he had a chance to get the message away in time.
[4] Poor sod has been glued to the hull, alone, blind and immobile for over an hour. Must have thought he had been thrown into the outer darkness to die. Unstick him and bring him in.
[5] Transport 1 is docked. We confirm atmosphere inside the ship. Stale, just enough oxygen to keep people alive. Traces of some organic gas. Do not breath that stuff. We will have to cycle everyone through the
lock.
[6] Transport 2 docked. We will open the hatch and pass our team through, then close it until we know that the atmosphere is safe.
[5] Pressure is high enough that the clean suits will not be venting air. Watch for contamination, especially bugs.
[3] Our boy says to stay outside. In his words, “It is hell in there. Flies are everywhere, biting and killing. Everyone is insane. They are eating the dead bodies.” Gonna be a fun time, boys and girls.
I guessed that [1], [2], and [3] were the three original engs, that [4] was a doctor and [5] and [6] must be navs. After that, the blizzard of messages got too thick to follow and I started looking for some way to sort out the names. This interface had layer after layer, and in any place but the MI office I would never have been able to sort my way through it. Eventually, I identified the Banshees by name. Because Com Thieu had deliberately followed Raul in defiance of her chain of command, I found her as well. To try to follow what had happened, I scanned the logs for the people I could identify. It was like trying to follow a conversation when you can only hear one of the ten people talking. Very much like.
[TIPU] This is awful. For the record, the air is full of glue bugs. If they are glue bugs. They coat all the walls. The lights are out, so the whole room is illuminated only by our headlamps. They have cleaned around the airlock, which was leaking, and filled the crack with foam that hardened into a plastic sealant. [1] tells us that the organic vapour is solvent evaporating from the glue, obnoxious but harmless if we do not breath too much of it. The control panels are covered with glue bugs and the engs are cleaning them so they can get started.
[TIPU] We need to clear this level of everyone still alive. There are bodies over by the door. They must be dead. They are covered with bugs, and their faces and skin have been eaten away by the acid. One has entrails floating free out of his abdomen. Glad I did not eat; I would spew at that sight. Oh, what hell do we live in? Two of them are still alive, including the one with exposed intestines! Marin says to bag them and bring them in. I think it would be a mercy to end them now.
[THIEU] Look at those emojis. Hatred, treachery, defeat, despair, suicide, all at max intensity. And the tokens are for paralysis, shutting down almost every system. That is why the lights are off and cannot be turned on. All the armour must be immobilized. Life support is off, but only in the ship. People in suits may still be alive, but only until their air runs out. By the door over there. The face mask is burned, but perhaps?
[CHANDRAPATI] First airtight room is right, down one level. We can follow the two engs heading for the engine room to shut down the drive. At the next level down
[ASHURA] Right, up one level and left. Oh, there is someone stuck to the ceiling. Under drive we cannot get to them... Thank goodness for powered suits and magnetic boots. They are dead? Oh! Oh! A bug factory instead of a head inside the helmet. I wish you had not
[TIPU] We have six people in tow. Three are in suits, one badly chewed by the bugs, two from an airtight room who were demented and are still too badly traumatized to talk. At least there are fewer bugs in the bay now. I will strip the three in suits, bag them and pass them in. Most of the rooms hold supplies on this level, but someone may be hiding behind a rack. We will go back after we are done bagging these people. Any word about the engines? No, of course not.
[SAN DIEGO] This is ghastly. We need to move. If this ship is the same as the Excalibur, we need to go down the hall, up two levels and right to find the MI office. Try not to look at the people. Our focus must be to turn off the MI comm centre. I see outgoing comm is disabled, both for the ship and for every suit of armour. These people are all alone, mute, blind and helpless. My worst nightmares were like that. We must stop the attack to free them. For the record, as soon as we move too deep into the ship for the repeaters on the transports to hear us, we too will be isolated except for the IR lasers. Thank goodness, they work through the suits, if only at short range. We
A long wait, then:
[MARIN] Chandrapati, can you hear me? We could use your help here.
More silence from the team.
[SAN DIEGO] Restart of the comm centre is complete. Com Thieu brought a new macro that strips emojis and tokens from messages on the fly, so we can hear people even if they are broadcasting corrupted signals. You probably want to enable people’s comm units one at a time to decide if they are sane. We are enabling the macro, now.
Page after page of screaming, hysterical insanity scrolled past.
[SAN DIEGO] My apologies. We have disabled that macro. It may be useful later when people are less traumatized. The bugs are very thick up here. They are starting to stick to our masks even through the lubricant coating, which I fear means the acid has eaten through the coating.
[SAN DIEGO] Even after we unlock the doors, we need the strength of powered armour to open them. The MI operator had shot herself. We are proceeding down the hall towards an airtight room off the officer’s quarters.
[MARIN] Chandrapati, can you hear me now?
[CHANDRAPATI] Yes, Doctor Marin. We have three eng, all demented. They were hiding in an airtight room next to the drive control. One had a heart attack when we entered, but the marines revived him with an emergency stim kit. How can I help?
[MARIN] Can you come to help calm the formerly demented? They have been insane from the attack for almost two days now, some of them even longer. They seem to believe they are dead and in hell, or that I am a Martian assassin. You have been so gentle with people in distress, could you come and try to settle them down? The first two transports are full and almost ready to leave, but the crew cannot fly and manage deranged passengers, and I will run out of sedatives if I put them all in a coma.
[CHANDRAPATI] Coming. Leilani, could you come down a level when you are done?
I had been so preoccupied since we arrived on the Mao that I had not noticed Chandrapati being gentle with anyone. Except maybe me, after I had raped the whole team. Maybe they made him the spokesperson because he knew how to be gentle, when everyone else wanted to beat me senseless.
There was quite a bit more talk as one room after another was cleared of the living. Of the thirty-three crew on the Manila bay, nineteen had been evacuated to the transports alive. Only five of the most junior crew were sane, if badly traumatized. Four more were believed to be in an airtight room on the command deck, just behind the missile bays, although the comm centre had not recorded messages from them in the last four hours. The captain was believed to be in the missile bays, based on the incoherent messages he had been sending.
Four of the transports were loaded with crew from the Manila Bay, guarded by marines and sailors to keep them under control. They detached and started to boost away gently, coming home to the Mao or to the Deng.
There were still three engs left in the dying ship, trying to shut down the drive through a control interface that was almost completely dead, plus Raul, Thieu and their two marines.
[THIEU] The door is unlocked, but even the marine’s armour cannot open it. They must have barricaded it from within. No one answers when we call.
[SAN DIEGO] We should try for the captain and come back once he is free.
[SAN DIEGO] The door to the weapon bays is unlocked but still does not open. There should be a laser comm beside it – yes, there, all covered with glue bugs.
Another long pause, when he must have been speaking with the captain, then,
[SAN DIEGO] EMERGENCY EVAC, EVERYONE. Boost! Boost! Fifty megaton nuke in five minutes. We are returning now!
Then a terrifying three and a half minutes of silence.
[4] All aboard. Emergency disconnect complete... We are free, max boost.
I watched as all six transports blasted away from the Manila Bay. In principle, a transport could maintain 2-G for ten minutes. It was sufficient to land on and lift off a planet as massive as the Earth. Easy work for a planet as small as Mars.
In practice, they rarely took on that much reaction mass. I checked t
he logs and realized they had only loaded enough for four minutes, and three minutes of that had been expended in the rush to reach the Manila Bay. They had intended a gentler return trip, to avoid traumatizing the already distressed evacuees. They had less than one minute of fuel to escape far enough to survive the radiation from a fifty-megaton blast and the enormous EMP it would create. One minute of desperate boost, followed by thirty seconds of helpless coasting. Not nearly enough.
Fifty seconds into the wait, the Mao shut down all its sensitive systems, drew all its sensors into their bays, and closed the shutters on the bays. A battleship like the Mao would hardly notice a tiny nuclear explosion like the one that destroyed the Fairy Dust, and could survive megaton explosions at much closer range, but would lose almost any equipment left outside. A handful of robust radiation sensors were left active, as well as one small optical telescope that would be sacrificed to provide a record up to the moment of the blast. The transports were much closer and would suffer far more damage.
Lord Banshee- Fairy Dust Page 44