by Rob Dearsley
“Sir, I’ve got you a way out. Sending a map to your flexes now,” she called into the still open com. On the sensor console, she tapped the command to send the map, her eyes never leaving the screen. She hoped against hope that the lack of hostiles on the far side of the cruiser wasn’t just a sensor glitch. “I’ll pick you up from the fighter bay.”
“Got it, Arland. Don’t be late.” The captain closed the com.
Arland threw herself into the pilot’s chair, disabling the autopilot and pulling the Folly up and over the top of the Heimdall. The TDF cruiser’s huge engines loomed to her right. The paintwork was scarred and chipped to the point that she could barely make out the original, royal blue livery.
Alarms screamed through the Folly’s bridge. An explosion erupted from the Heimdall almost directly beneath them, tearing its way free of the ship in a wash of shrapnel. Arland desperately pulled on the yoke, trying to get the small craft clear of the blast.
The shockwave hit, throwing the Folly upward. G-force pinned Arland to the chair for a second, before throwing her upward. She crashed into the overhead jarring her shoulder. For a moment, she didn’t know which way was up. Then the gravity normalised, bringing her down in an ungainly sprawl across the deck.
“Shauna? Are you still there?” Jax’ voice came over the com, slightly distorted, but still understandable.
Arland shook her head, still trying to orient herself. “I’m fine. What happened?”
“I think the collider ring is destabilising. We need to get clear.”
“The captain and Luc are still over there. I can’t leave them.”
“If I’m right about the collider ring, then when it loses containment it’s going to shoot near-luminal velocity exotic matter over light seconds of space.”
Arland clambered back into the pilot’s chair and aimed the ship down toward the Heimdall, just in time to see another explosion rip through her engines, this one much larger.
She hit the comm switch. “Captain, sir. Are you there? Can you hear me? Sir?”
◊◊
The creature was like the dead ones Dannage and Luc had passed on their journey through the ship. It stood on the catwalk above them, clawed feet gripping the metal grating for purchase.
“What the—?” Luc brandished a metal pipe like a weapon.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Dannage said. “Run!”
With another high-pitched screech, the creature threw itself at them. Dannage tugged on the railing, sending himself rocketing off to the right, toward a gantry system directly in front of the ring. He felt the pull of the collider tugging him off course, and prayed he had enough momentum to make it. He chanced a quick glance over his shoulder. Luc had gone the other way and now pulled himself along the underside of a lower walkway. The creature landed with enough force to crumple the catwalk and twisted to come after him.
Dannage slammed into the metal frame of the gantry, bounced and started spinning into open space. In a blind panic, he flailed, hands grasping for any point of purchase, before closing around the metal framework. Thank the Stars above. He pulled himself onto the skeletal structure.
“Captain, I’m picking up other life forms heading your way,” Arland’s voice crackled in his ear, making him start.
“Yeah, we know,” he snapped. Surely, she could see they were under attack? It occurred to him what her belated warning actually meant. Jax must have gotten the life signs scanners back online. They could use that.
Arland was still talking, but Dannage had more immediate concerns. The creature’s powerful legs coiled as it prepared to spring at him. Dannage cast about for a weapon, something, anything he could use against it.
He spared a second’s glance down to his wrist screen as a wireframe map popped up. “Got it, Arland. Don’t be late.”
Dannage spotted a large spanner wedged between two struts just below him. It made for a terrible weapon, but it was better than nothing. The gantry was in the middle of an open space. The only way he could get off safely was by climbing down to floor level. The creature was faster than him, especially with him in the suit. If he tried to run it would catch him and kill him. The sarcastic part of his mind suggested that maybe it just wanted a hug. He’d rather not take the chance in finding out.
On the other side of the bay, Luc tangled with another of the creatures. Dannage couldn’t worry about that now; his assailant was already airborne and coming for him.
Dannage braced himself, jamming his boots into the latticework of the gantry, and hefted the large spanner ready to strike. He’d only have one chance at this and if he missed he’d find out if it really did like hugs.
The creature was only ten metres away and closing fast. Eight metres, six, he twisted into the backswing. Four metres, its hands reached out for him. He felt he had all the time in the world to take in the rough texture of its hide. Two metres. He swung the spanner, throwing his whole body into the blow.
For a terrifying moment, he felt his boots shift in the gantry. The spanner hit the side of the creature’s head with a mighty thump, the force of the blow tearing the tool from Dannage’s hands.
The creature may have been bigger and stronger, but physics was physics. The blow knocked it sideways. The creature’s hands grazed the front of his suit, claws scraping over the hard-shell, then it was gone. In freefall, without anything to hold onto and most of its forward momentum spent, it tumbled away toward the collider ring.
His heart hammering, Dannage reached down to steady himself. He took a couple of calming breaths, trying to get his body under control before looking around for Luc.
There Luc was, running, or pulling himself along a walkway that ran the width of the engine room. He was heading toward the port side, which was at least in the right direction. One of the creatures closed in behind him.
The warbling cry of the creature Dannage had struck drew his attention. It was being pulled faster and faster toward the collider ring.
It reached out a hand, gripping the edge of the large, c-shaped support component. Dannage could have sworn the creature looked up at him. Something gave way beneath its grip in a shower of sparks and it was jolted backwards into the wall of the collider.
A blinding flash of light filled the compartment, whiting out Dannage’s vision half a second before the shockwave sent him tumbling away from the gantry. He screwed up his eyes, blinded by amorphous after-images of the blast.
◊◊
When Dannage opened his eyes again there was only blackness and stillness. The tugging of the collider ring was gone. He wondered if he was dead, if this was it, the end of everything. The darkness before the first star. But if he was dead, why did he hurt so much?
Arland’s voice crackled in his ear. “Captain, sir, are you there? Can you hear me? Sir?”
It took him a couple of attempts to thumb the com-link open. “I’m here, Arland, keep your hair on. Luc, you around?”
There was a crackle as Luc joined the link. “I’m here, Cap’n. Though not entirely sure where here is.”
Dannage reached up a shaky hand and flicked his helmet lights back on. Their beams pierced the darkness. Twisted walkways stretched out to his left and right. Fragments of machinery were embedded in the wall behind him. The blast wave must have thrown him into the compartment’s forward section where walkways ran the width of the room.
“Sir, Jax thinks the collider might be broken, you need to get out of there before it explodes again.”
He remembered the creature slamming into the side of the ring. “That may have been my bad.”
“You’re missing the point, sir. Get out of there, both of you.”
Even slightly punch-drunk, he had to admit she had a point.
“Luc, meet at the port-side door on Arland’s map.”
◊◊
Taking a moment to orient himself, Dannage headed for the far side of the bay, pulling himself along the ruined railings.
A shower of sparks briefly illumina
ted the compartment, accompanied by a deep rumbling. Part of him wanted to ask Arland what was going on, but all his attention was focused on getting out of there as quickly as possible. His head swivelled back and forth, scanning for more of the creatures. Thankfully, he made it all the way to the far wall without seeing any signs of them, or Luc for that matter.
He turned to look back across the room. Another rumble made the deck vibrate. Sparks, careening off the obviously broken collider ring, illuminated the room in a pale blue light. In that instant, he could see more of the creatures clambering across twisted gantries and smashed walkways.
A hand clamped on his shoulder. Crying out in alarm, he pulled away, spinning, his arms flailing, reaching for something to propel himself away from his attacker.
“Easy there, Cap’n,” Luc said.
Dannage let out a ragged breath, glaring at his old friend. “Don’t do that!”
Luc let out a soft chuckle. “Come on, Cap'n. Let’s get gone.”
The pair headed off into the corridors of the ship. Moving as quickly as they dared, they followed Arland’s map toward the hanger bay.
◊◊
More explosions ripped through the Heimdall’s engine modules. Thankfully, the Folly was far enough from the blasts to not get buffeted.
“You should take a look at this,” Vaughn said quietly.
Arland started, jerking the yoke, and causing the ship to buck violently. She hadn’t heard the doctor come back in.
“What?” she snapped, perhaps harsher than necessary.
“More bad news, I’m afraid.”
She spun the chair to look at him. “Come on then, spit it out.”
“According to the computer models, the explosions have pushed the ship into a lower orbit.”
“And?” She was getting frustrated now. They didn’t have time for twenty questions. There was too much happening all at once. She marched across the small space between them and looked down at his screen.
“Stars,” she breathed. According to the computer model, the Heimdall’s new orbit put it on a collision course with Feldspar II in just under an hour. She ran back to the pilot’s seat, tuned them toward that flight deck and gunned the engines.
“Captain, we have another problem.”
“Shh.” The com-link cut off. Damn him. His stupidity would get both him and Luc killed.
She reopened the com. “Sir?”
There was no reply.
“Sir, I’m assuming you can hear me. The cruiser you are on is going to crash into the planet in fifty-three minutes.”
◊◊
Luc and Dannage exchanged worried glances. Fifty-three minutes didn’t give them long. By Dannage’s estimate, it would take nearly forty-five for them to get to the bay if they didn’t stop or have to double back.
“What do we do about him?” Luc pointed toward where one of the creatures floated in the hallway.
“There was a ladder back there.” Dannage pointed the way they had come. “We can take that up to the next level, then drop down again the other side.”
Luc nodded, his lights bobbing, and they moved back to the ladder.
The next floor up looked like another medical area. This time some of the doors were open, giving them a good view into what looked, more than anything, like surgical suites. Some of the beds had heavy looking metal restraints for the ankles and wrists. Dannage didn’t want to think about what that might mean.
A soft green glow from the far end of the hallway drew Dannage’s attention. Kicking off the wall, he moved toward it. As he came closer, it became apparent the glow was from a small panel by one of the doors. Still powered after all this time.
“Cap’n, we don’t have time for this.”
Dannage was keenly aware of that but ignored the other man and pressed his hand gingerly against the glowing controls.
It flashed white. Bright enough to leave him blinking away the afterimage. With a mechanical hum, the doors parted.
The room inside was lit by a pair of emergency lights. Dannage pulled himself in, using the doorframe. His eyes never left the twin ovoid tubes set onto waist-high stands on either side of the door. Cryo-Pods.
The one on the right was dark, any contents lost to shadow. The one on the left, however, still glowed softly. Lost in wonder, he moved over to the glowing tube. Displays worked into the clear, curved surface showed what looked like a life signs trace. A block of text he couldn’t read was projected above it.
The minute he saw her, the display held little interest. His whole attention focused on the face beneath. Her head rested on a soft white cushion, dark hair spread out like a halo. Her features were strong and well defined. Even in this sleep, her jaw had a challenging, almost aggressive tilt. The rest of her was covered by a white shift, giving the slightest impression of a lithe figure. She looked like an angel from the ancient earth legends, floating on her island of calm above the troubles of life.
“Cap’n, we have to go.”
It was crazy. He was crazy for even considering it. That’s what Luc would say, and the rational part of his mind would probably agree. None of that seemed to matter right then. He hurried around the pod. It wasn’t connected to the wall or anything, so it probably had an internal power supply – maybe, anyway – and the support frame that held it looked like it would release. If he could just work out how.
“Cap’n.”
There it was. A clip just beneath the pod. He fumbled for it, the thick gloves of his space suit not suited for this work.
“Luc, give me a hand with this, will you.”
“This is not a good idea. We don’t have the time.” Despite his words, Luc began working the clasps on the other side of the pod.
“We’re in zero-gravity. It won’t slow us down that much. And come on, we can’t just leave her here to die.”
Luc looked at him over the pod. “This is a bad idea Cap’n. You’re risking both our lives. For what?”
“Stars, man. It’s an actual Terran warrior. A real, fifty-thousand-year-old person. Think what we could learn from her.”
Luc shook his head. “Learn, eh?”
With a final click, the pod released, floating upward between the two men. Luc grabbed hold of one side and kicked off, dragging it behind him and out of the room. Dannage followed, pushing the pod. His eyes kept going back to its occupant.
◊◊
Arland sat in the Folly’s pilot’s chair. She kept station a mere hundred metres from the Heimdall’s fighter bay. On the ship’s HUD, the countdown to impact flicked by at an alarming rate. Less than twenty minutes left.
“Where are the captain and Luc?” she asked.
Vaughn let out a pained sigh. She’d been pestering for updates practically every thirty seconds. “If you like, you can watch them on the sensors and I can drive.”
“Not likely.” She let out a short bark of laughter.
“Our illustrious captain and first officer are on their way.”
She was about to shoot back a scathing retort when the Folly’s proximity alarms blared. She cast about for the source of the alarm, already pulling the ship up and away from the Heimdall. She saw it a moment later. A huge antenna more than four times the length of the Folly. It must have sheared off the bow. It came tumbling past, below them.
She let out a sigh of relief. If she’d been a second slower, or dodged the wrong way they would have gotten skewered, which would have really pissed off Jax. She looked down toward the forward section of the Terran ship. It was on fire, glowing white hot. More parts sheared away as the bow ploughed through Feldspar II’s upper atmosphere. As she watched, a section further back deformed, hull plates tearing away.
“I thought you said we had—” She checked the timer. “—sixteen minutes?”
Vaughn shot her an annoyed look. “It’s what the computer said.”
“Jax, what’s up with that impact estimate the computer gave us?”
“Hang on, I’ll just check the data.” T
here was a pause, punctuated by soft chirping and the rattle of Jax’s old-style, mechanical keyboard. “The impact time the computer gave you is for hull against planetary surface. It even worked out loss of momentum as the ship passed through the atmosphere.”
She'd heard about this sort of thing back in SDF training. “So the front end of the ship is being slowed as it enters the upper atmosphere, but the back end isn’t.”
“Yes,” Jax interrupted, “the stress is causing the space frame to buckle. It’s partially a function of its size. Something this big might never have been designed for atmospheric entry. Especially not at these angles.”
“Partially?” Vaughn asked.
Arland jockeyed the ship aside as another section of the hull buckled, ripping armour plate and a whole gun battery away, exposing inner sections of the Heimdall to space.
“Captain, the cruiser is coming apart. You need to get out of there now.”
◊◊
“This day just keeps getting worse,” Dannage muttered.
“Regretting going after the info?” Luc said, pointedly glancing back.
Dannage looked down at the cryo-pod, at her. “Nope.”
Luc’s sigh misted his visor.
The creature leapt up behind Luc. One hand grabbed him by the helmet, whipping him toward the wall.
Dannage froze. Luc tumbled before him like a rag-doll. He should have done something – attacked, ran, something, anything! But his mind stalled. His oldest friend, gone just like that.
The creature lunged for him. Just in time, Dannage lunged back, his trajectory taking him beneath the creature. Its groping hands snatched at him, grabbing hold of the rucksack. He shucked it off, leaving the creature its prize, and pushing forward with all he had, trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and the creature.
He stumbled, but his momentum kept him drifting forward. The creature charged Dannage, passing where Luc drifted. Luc’s position had shifted slightly, and it looked like he was holding something.