by Ryk Brown
Another horrible tearing sound filled the room… The sound of air rapidly escaping. There was a tremendous sucking sensation that suddenly pulled Nash aft, sending him slamming sideways into the number three reactor column.
The hull’s been ruptured, he realized in horror. He tried to take a deep breath as he tumbled helplessly aft, but found very little oxygen available. His left foot slammed into something and got stuck. It felt as if his leg was about to separate from his hip. A large piece of metal paneling came tumbling toward him. Nash flailed about, barely able to dodge the panel as it flew past him and slammed into the aft bulkhead.
The suction pulling him aft suddenly weakened. The metal panel had partially covered the crack in the aft bulkhead, but the last of the pressure was still rapidly spilling out into space, along with his precious oxygen.
A terrible pain shot through his left foot and up his leg, and Captain Nash found himself tumbling again, albeit with far less acceleration than before. He flailed about as he tumbled, the deafening sound of his ship coming apart fading away as the last of the atmosphere that carried it was sucked into the void.
He held his breath as he grabbed a section of conduit that had been pushed away by the buckling of the bulkhead it was connected to. He reached out for the rail around the tunnel above him that led upward to the maintenance crawler. He struggled to pull himself upward into the tunnel, just as everything went silent.
As he ascended, the ship shook violently in the deafening silence, tossing him back and forth within the narrow tunnel. He glanced downward as the ship below him tore away, exposing a sea of stars beneath his feet as he ascended the last meter.
The captain could feel himself losing consciousness as he reached the top of the tunnel and passed through the small hatchway into the back of the maintenance crawler. He slid in clumsily, headfirst, slamming his skull into the top of the canopy. He pulled his feet in next, struggling to get them past the hatchway behind him and into the cramped crawler. As everything began to go dark, he managed to flip open the safety cover and activate the hatch control. Fumbling for the environmental controls, he slipped away.
* * *
Josh rolled the Falcon onto its left side, pulling into a tight, descending, ninety-degree turn. As he completed his turn, he rolled back out and pitched down, putting his nose onto the same area as the chaser missiles that had brought down Combat Jumper Eight a minute ago. “On course and speed,” he reported as he glanced at his flight data display.
“Jumping,” Loki replied as their canopy turned opaque for a second. “Weapons bay opening, missile armed. Firing.”
Josh peeked up over his console as the missile streaked out from under their nose, speeding ahead of them toward the buildings below.
“Swinging nose turret onto… Combat Three! Chasers to your four o’clock! Bank left! Full burn, and jump!”
“Three taking evasive!” the pilot replied. “Deploying countermeasures!”
Loki glanced out to port as Combat Three turned left and pitched up, her four engine pods at full thrust. A string of bright, glowing decoys shot out in all directions as she disappeared in a blue-white flash. With nothing left in front of them, all three chaser missiles that were following Combat Three locked onto the decoys and exploded on impact seconds later. “Three made it!” Loki announced as he turned to his threat display. His eyes widened. “What the… Telles! Falcon Four! Multiple targets! Airborne! Coming in fast!”
“What?” the commander replied, genuine surprise in his voice. “From where?”
“From everywhere!” Loki cried. “They’re coming at you from all directions!”
“What the hell are they?”
“I don’t know, but they’re going to be on you in thirty seconds!”
“How many?”
“At least a hundred of them! Twenty seconds!”
“I thought we owned the god damned skies?” the commander cursed.
“They’re not fighters, sir, they’re too small… They’ve gotta be drones!”
Commander Telles looked up, scanning the skies beyond the nearby rooftops. Swarms of small black objects came over the tops of the buildings in the distance, headed straight for them. “Incoming drones!” he yelled, raising his energy rifle. “Bulldog One! Lift off now and jump the hell out of here!” he added as he opened fire on the incoming swarm.
The shuttle’s engines roared to life as the last of the men on the ground jumped onto the shuttle’s rear loading ramp.
“We gotta go!” Master Sergeant Jahal yelled to his commander.
Telles continued to fire at the incoming drones. The nearest drones opened fire, sending needle-like bolts of blue slamming into the ground all around them. The bolts slammed into the commander’s body armor, striking him in the chest, arms, and abdomen. He could feel the warmth of the beams getting through to his skin, as well as the kinetic force of the impacts, but he continued firing. He felt someone grab his shoulder and pull him forward.
“Let’s go!” the master sergeant yelled at the top of his lungs as he pulled at his commander.
They ran toward the shuttle as it slowly rose from the ground. Several drones dove straight down toward the rising cargo shuttle, firing all the way in, until they slammed into the top of the shuttle. First one, then two, then three, and finally a fourth one slammed into the shuttle’s forward engine pod. The pod exploded, and the shuttle’s nose dipped as the ship rolled to starboard and struck the ground. Its forward right landing gear buckled and snapped as three more drones slammed into the crashing shuttle.
Commander Telles felt a wave of heat and air pressure hit him head-on. It lifted him off the ground, sending him flying backwards a good fifteen meters. He slammed into the side of the command bunker, the thousands of tiny tubules in his assistive undergarment stiffening to protect him from the impact.
His ears rang and his vision was blurred. He could feel pain in every part of his body. He realized he was sitting on the ground, his back against the wall of the command bunker, his legs spread out on the ground. Something slammed into the ground next to him. Something bright blue. Then something moved in front of him. A familiar figure, bending down to grab him, pulling him to his feet as the figure yelled at him in muffled, barely audible tones.
He stumbled to his feet by instinct and the help of his friend. His ears were still ringing, but his vision was clearing and his hearing was returning. There were explosions, dozens of them. Tiny ones, from all directions, along with the humming of small propulsion systems and the repetitive zinging of small energy weapons.
A larger explosion nearby grabbed his attention as it lit up everything around him. He could feel the heat from it, seeing the fireball not thirty meters away, rising skyward.
“Move!” the master sergeant ordered.
Commander Telles raised his weapon as he began to stumble away from the explosion.
“Can you make it?” the master sergeant asked as they headed out.
“Yes!” the commander replied. He took several unbalanced steps, the tubules in his suit helping him move, providing him additional strength and balance, without which he might still be sitting on his ass…or worse.
He opened fire on the black, wedge-shaped drones that were flitting about overhead, firing at anything that moved. Within seconds, the drones had locked in on them and were firing away. He could feel their hot, needle-like beams slamming into his backpack as he ran. His tactical display flickered as he ran while the needle-like beams slammed into his pack and caused it to fail.
They made it to the nearest building, falling through the broken door into the lobby. Four drones crashed through the windows, chasing them inside. The commander and the master sergeant opened fire, quickly taking out all four of the black, meter-wide, wedge-shaped killing machines.
“We gotta ge
t into the corridors where they can’t follow us!” Master Sergeant Jahal insisted, as two more drones entered through the front door and pressed the attack. Jahal returned fire, dropping one drone as he backpedaled to cover his friend’s escape. They ran down the corridor, more bolts of energy slamming into both their packs as they ran. They rounded the corner and Telles stopped, turning back around. He opened fire, spraying the ceiling and walls, causing them to collapse behind them. “That should slow them down,” he said, his voice shaky.
“Your back’s on fire,” the master sergeant said, panting.
Commander Telles looked over his shoulder and noticed smoke drifting up from his pack. He pressed the release button, allowing the pack to drop away. Without his pack, his tactical display vanished, and his comms went dead. He reached down and opened the compartment on his left thigh armor and pulled out the small comm-set that he normally used while at Porto Santo or on board the Aurora. “Your pack isn’t looking so good either, my friend,” he said as he pulled off his helmet and tossed it aside.
Master Sergeant dropped his smoldering pack, following his commander’s lead and reaching for his comm-set as well.
“Any Alliance unit, this is Commander Telles. Do you copy?”
“Telles, Falcon Four,” Loki replied. “You’re broken and weak, but I can hear you.”
“Four, Telles. What’s the situation?”
“Telles, Four. Bulldog One is down hard. No survivors. Combat Three is holding up high, out of range of chasers for now, just like us. Where are you?”
“Someplace those fucking drones can’t reach us, for now,” the commander replied. “What are they doing?”
“They’re just hovering around the building to the northeast of the command bunker, between Micker Four and Kato Two,” Loki replied.
“They’re not coming after you or Three?”
“No, sir. They may have limited ceilings.”
“Or they know they’d be wasting their time chasing jump ships in the air,” Jahal commented.
“What about Combat Seven’s crew?” the commander asked. “Anyone pick them up yet?”
“Bulldog Six dropped their passengers on the Aurora in order to get back quickly,” Loki explained. “They’re picking up Seven’s crew now, then they’ll be returning to the Aurora.”
“What about ground troops?” Telles asked.
“Moving toward you from all sides. You’ve got a few minutes, at most.”
“Any bright ideas?” Jahal wondered.
Commander Telles shot him a withering look.
“Well, you are the commander.”
“Three, Telles. Your jump drive still operational?”
“Telles, Three. Affirmative,” the pilot replied. “What do you have in mind, sir?”
Telles opened the compartment on his right thigh and pulled out a remote detonator. He punched in a few numbers and waited for a response. A second later, a green light appeared. “Get ready to jump in. Your LZ will be between the command bunker and Bulldog One’s crash site. Jump in no more than five meters above the deck, as little forward momentum as possible.”
“Sir, that will put us right in the middle of those drones. They’ll be on us before you can get aboard.”
“I’m going to blow the bunker. The shock wave should knock them down. We should have at least twenty seconds before nearby drones can move in to replace them.”
“Copy that,” Combat Three’s pilot replied. “Give us a few seconds to get into position.”
“We’ll go in thirty seconds,” Commander Telles said. He moved to the nearest door on the street side of the corridor. He opened it up and looked inside. He was immediately met with the sound of broken glass and the zing of needle-like beams of energy from drones hovering outside the windows on the far side of the room. “Well, we’ve found our exit point.” He moved to the door on the opposite side and went into the next room, the master sergeant following him. He crouched down against the wall, then looked at the detonator, arming it. “Three, Telles. You ready?”
“Telles, Three. Ready.”
“Detonation in three……two……one……” Telles pressed the button on the detonator. A split second later, the command bunker outside exploded, shaking the entire building. The ceiling above them collapsed, coming down in large sections. Furniture from above them followed, crashing down all around them. The wall they were leaning against caved inward, falling down on top of them.
Telles pushed his way up through the debris. The corridor was gone, as was most of the outside wall in the next room. “Jahal!” he called out.
“Here!”
“Let’s go!”
“Right behind you, Commander!”
Telles and Jahal quickly made their way across the rubble and furniture. The room was full of smoke and dust; they could barely see anything outside. Within seconds, they were on the street again. The lingering haze from the explosion lit up a brilliant blue, immediately followed by a clap of thunder and another shockwave that nearly knocked them over again. As he regained his balance, the commander looked up. There, not more than four meters above the debris-strewn street, was Combat Jumper Three, coming to a dead hover a few meters away. More importantly, there wasn’t a drone in sight.
Commander Telles looked at his friend, gesturing for him to go first. He watched as the master sergeant took several running steps, then leapt upward with the assistance of his suit, sailing up into the wide-open side door of the combat jumper. Telles followed his friend, taking several running steps as well before leaping upward into the hovering shuttle.
“Chasers!” the pilot called out as the commander landed just inside the door. The shuttle rolled right, turning hard in order to avoid the incoming missile.
Telles felt the deck of the shuttle dropping out from under his feet as it took evasive maneuvers. The chaser missile passed directly beneath him as he felt himself falling back toward the surface.
Then, abruptly, his fall stopped.
Two different hands had grabbed him. One hand belonging to his friend, Master Sergeant Jahal, and the other to one of the combat jump shuttle’s door gunners. As the shuttle continued its right turn, they pulled the commander inside, just as several blue, needle-like beams from newly arriving drones slammed into the side of the climbing shuttle.
“We’re hit! We’re hit!” the copilot reported.
“Flight controls are still good,” the pilot reported.
“We’ve lost both starboard emitters!” the copilot added.
“Can we still fly?” Commander Telles asked as he struggled to get safely into his seat in the rear of the shuttle.
“Yes, sir,” the pilot replied, “we can still fly, we just can’t jump.”
“Can we make it to the Aurora?”
“Yes, sir. It will just take us a few extra minutes, that’s all.”
“Fine. As long as I get the fuck off this rock.”
Master Sergeant Jahal patted his commander on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “That was some bright fucking idea you had there, Lucius!”
A small grin formed in the corner of the commander’s mouth. “Well, I am the commander, after all.”
* * *
“Flight Ops reports Commander Telles’ shuttle and Bulldog Six are both safely aboard,” Luis reported from the Aurora’s tactical station.
“Red deck,” Nathan ordered.
“Red deck, aye.”
“Comms, ask the commander to report to the bridge.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jump flash,” Mister Navashee reported. “Comm-drone.”
“Incoming message from Scout One,” Ensign Souza announced. “They are on station at the KKV launch point. KKV will launch in…one minute.”
Nathan glanced at t
he mission time on the tactical display on the main view screen. “Helm, break orbit and head for the Jung battleship’s last reported position.”
“Breaking orbit,” Mister Chiles acknowledged.
“Ready a jump, safe distance from the target and Scout Two.”
“Plotting jump,” Mister Riley replied.
Although Jessica said nothing, Nathan could feel her fear even more so than his own as she stood beside him. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, offer her comfort, but it was neither the time nor place for such gestures.
“Another jump flash,” Mister Navashee reported. “Comm-drone.”
Nathan spun his command chair slowly to the right, exchanging glances with Jessica momentarily before turning to look aft.
“Flash traffic from Scout Two!” Ensign Souza called out as Commander Telles walked past him on his way to the tactical station. “Putting up audio.”
“Aurora, Scout Two!” Captain Roselle called urgently over the loudspeaker. “Three has jumped! I repeat, Scout Three has jumped away! There’s a big fucking hole in the side of the Jung battleship, and her port shields down! She’s lost main power and appears adrift! She’s wide open for attack! Take the shot now!”
Nathan glanced at the mission clock. “Comms! Flash traffic for Scout One! Abort launch!”
“Flash traffic for One, abort, aye!”
“Twenty-five seconds,” Luis noted, “it may not be enough time.”
“Captain?” Commander Telles began.
“How many men do you have with you?” Nathan asked.
“About two dozen.” The commander’s expression changed as he realized Nathan’s intent.