Archaea

by Dain White

  Jane and Gene floated in behind us and latched on to grabbers. Jane had a pretty nasty gash along the back of her head that looked like it bled quite a bit.

  “Great job Captain”, Gene said. “I'll never get used to being locked up in the bowels of a ship while you do something terribly heroic, but I wouldn't want anyone else in that chair.”

  “Thanks Gene, it's not that hard, really. Try not to hit things, do a little math. I drink a fair amount of coffee, you know. The chair is pretty comfortable, so that helps. Janis is the real hero on this trip. Did she ever miss a shot, Yak?”

  “No, Captain. She's still holding at one-hundred percent”, I said proudly. “Not even when she went from 300-500, and then tracked upwards of 50k concurrent target moving upwards of 9kmps. The Archaea has to be the only ship in the galaxy that can fire intercepts on kinetic-speed bogeys!”

  “I agree, son – we're really lucky to have her. How are the turrets doing Shorty? Are we going to hold together?”

  “Well, our port-side turret is currently offline, so we'll need to rotate for any target solutions on that side of the Archaea, and I really don't think I can bring it back to an operational status without a pretty major refit to be honest.”

  “Those are pretty modular, though right? Aren't they pretty standardized?”

  “Absolutely, if we had a replacement handy, I could swap it out for a new one, though it may take some grinding to get the socket rounded off again.”

  “Captain,” Gene said, “Shorty and I were talking about going over there.” He gestured out the forward port towards the ruined destroyer, slowly rotating away from us. “There's probably a fair bit of salvage on that bird.”

  “I have been thinking the same thing, Gene. I'd like to see if we can get our hands on another core for Janis – but even if there's nothing we can use over there, we need to make an inspection at any rate. There could be people trapped in there.”

  “Sir, why would that matter?” Pauli asked. “They were just trying to kill us, for no reason other than we happened to show up in this sector of space.”

  “True, Pauli... but it's worth considering, that some of them may not be there willingly, and may have been conscripted from other vessels. Even if they're scoundrels to the core, I can't in good conscience leave them here...”

  He paused, looking intently at me for a moment.

  “Yak, how would you feel about getting your gear on, and checking her out for us?”

  I thought about it for a moment. Usually this sort of operation is done with a squad, with at least an engineer, medic, demolitions specialist... along with a few assault troops like me along to do any of the heavy lifting.

  “Sir, it'd be damn tough to go it alone on a job like that. One person might be able to clear a compartment, but... she's so big, sir. There are at least ten decks to work through. We also don't have any idea what we're facing over there. If they're desperate and it turns into a shooting war, I don't really like the thought of not having someone watching my back, sir.”

  “Fair enough son, how about if Shorty came along? She's a crack shot, and I've spent enough time letting her throw me around the cargo hold to know she's definitely mean enough... How about it Shorty?”

  “Captain, I’m up for it – there's nothing on that tub that Yak and I can't handle.” Her eyes locked on mine for a moment, daring me to open my mouth and say otherwise. My mom didn't raise a total fool, however, and I knew better.

  “Well, now – listen folks – I don't want you to take any unnecessary risks over there. Other than plasma cutters and other hand tools, we don't have much else we can use to extricate. Your safety is top priority, at all times. If there are people over there that need help, give it – but stay frosty as ice over there and keep your eyes and ears open. Remember that ship is military; it's designed for defense against a landed assault. Check your corners, and work together. Under no circumstances, for any reason, do either of you have permission to let the other out of your sight. Is that understood?”

  We both nodded. The captain looked as serious as a heart attack. His concern for us was real, there could be any number of bad people over there that aren't yet of the mind that we're their only hope for salvation, the only thing between them and inevitable anarchy as they eventually run out of food and air.

  *****

  Yak and I had taken up firing positions along either side of the topside lock, with the inner doors tight and all atmo removed. We were both armed to the teeth, I had my railer pistol in a chest holster, an antique British Fairbairn-Sykes commando knife honed to a razor edge strapped to my right leg at mid-thigh, and we both had chemser assault rifles, with 300 rounds of ammo clipped in belt packs. Noiseless, but able to burn holes through light armor, a chemser was the perfect heavy weapon for null gravity or airless environments.

  Mine had a short-frame and a collapsing stock, perfect for close-quarters combat. I had it on a chest harness so I could keep it close while I worked with my hands.

  Yak's chemser was a heavy assault model, with a much longer frame, longer barrel and holo sight; it shot a much hotter load. He could probably punch holes in Duron with it, but it fit him well, his big mitts wrapped around it like a toy. He also had a holstered railer slung across one side of his chest, as well as a plasma rig clipped to his web belt.

  We were both wearing standard EVA suits with ballistic scaled ceramide plating, perfect for defense against micro-meteorites or bullets, though it wasn't the perfect get-up for a girl on the go, it was better than nothing, and probably as good as we were going to need.

  We both had no illusions about what we might face when the lock opens. The odds are good that there are some very angry, bad people waiting for us, desperate and dangerous.

  As I was pre-flighting in my mind, going over what I had and worrying over what I didn't, my earpiece lit up with our captain's calm voice. “All clear?”

  “Roger, Captain. We're buttoned up and ready to knock on the door.”

  “Very good. Please stand by.”

  Shortly afterward, the outer lock irised open, revealing the external hatch on the destroyer.

  “Captain, I am knocking on the door now.” Yak said, moving up to the external lock controls. I raised my rifle, sighting in on an imaginary bad guy just over his left shoulder, then leaned my head back to keep everything in sight.

  Yak opened the access panel, flipped out the manual lever, and started cranking open the lock, but the lock chamber inside was dark and quiet. He took a quick look around the inside of the chamber, and flashed me a smile. My heart trip-hammered in my chest, but I nodded as confidently as I could and re-checked the safety.

  “Captain, we are in the lock chamber now, and Yak's about to make entry,” I said, trying to keep my voice level.

  Yak palmed the inner lock and slid flat against the chamber bulkhead, as the door opened in a rush of smoke-filled air that filled the lock chambers in a haze.

  The companionway ahead of us was dark, and filled with drifting clouds of smoke, thick enough to throw cones of light from our headlamps. Nothing moved, so I gave Yak the high-sign, and he took a cover position at the hatch and waved me forward. I kicked off, drifting along the left side of the companionway to the next bulkhead and took another position looking amidships, covering the companionway and an open compartment hatch across. Yak moved up to a position opposite, covering the closed hatch on my side.

  We traded a look, and I took point, kicking towards the side of the open hatch, slicing the pie across the sights of my chemser, my nerves jacked up to the max. The air was so full of smoke it was almost impossible to see anything, even with image amps turned way up. Everything that wasn't metal looked either melted or charred – even the deck plates looked buckled in the heat. As I spun around the corner of the hatch, Yak kicked off behind me and did the same scan to the left, pivoting into the corners.

  “Clear”, I said, and took a breath.

  “Clear here, Shorty – take a positi
on here, and I'll pop open the hatch across the companionway.”

  “Sounds like a plan...” I hooked my knee against the bulkhead along the hatch, and took a position inside the compartment, covering the opposite hatch. Yak sliced the pie up the companionway, and moved across to take up a position alongside the hatch, covering both the hallway and the hatch. I gave him a nod, and he palmed the hatch open.

  Nothing jumped out at us, and the compartment was dark. He cleared right, and then waved me up. I cleared left and we entered together, aiming back into the corners of the compartment. Nothing here either, except a bunch of snap-locked cases in wire cage racks, roasted and smoking.

  “What do you figure is in those, Shorty?”

  “Hard saying Yak...cargo of some sort.” I shrugged, an impossible gesture in our EVA suits.

  We continued working our way along this deck to the central elevator, and pressed on forward, though we were stopped by a tangle of smoking hot wreckage that had collapsed down and closed off the corridor. So far, we had found storage, a machine shop with some tools Gene and I wished we had, and some mechanical compartments. Everything on this deck was dark, and we didn't find anyone, living or otherwise.

  The central elevator was closed and inoperable, but Yak sliced off the control lock with the plasma cutter, and we were able to cycle open the doors. The shaft inside was dark and silent; a taut cable ran down from the car at the very top of the shaft down into a darkness our head lamps couldn't illuminate.

  “We're going to have to cut our way into each deck, Shorty”, Yak said, looking down into the darkness. “We're going to need to clear each opening just like any other hatch, looks like. You hold a position on one side of the hoistway, and I'll pull back on the interlock roller and lock the doors open. Once the doors are open, I'll mirror the hallway, and we'll slice in together. Do you know the layout of these ships?”

  “Yeah, the gun deck is below, and the magazine and mechanicals for the nova cannons are in a limited access deck directly below. Under that, there are storage and cargo compartments, with bilge and engineering spaces aft. Above us should be crew decks, mess and galley, with upper engineering decks to the aft. The top deck is split, with bridge and communications station forward and a top-opening hatch for the skiff hangar amidships. Aft of that is the upper mechanicals, sensor bay, and reac storage.”

  “I'm afraid my time on these was spent mostly on the crew decks unless I was standing security watch at some hatch somewhere. I didn't really get much opportunity to go exploring. Should we work our way up, or down?”

  “Up, I think. There are likely to be less survivors on the upper decks, and once we clear those we can work back down.”

  “Sounds good – let's move up.”

  *****

  My eyes were glazing over with charts and graphs as I worked with Janis to produce an after-action report. The amount of data she collected was overwhelming, and it was proving to be quite a challenge to narrow it down to a more digestible view that still contained enough information for Gene and Shorty.

  The captain floated in and handed over a thermo of tomato soup and a grilled cheese, a perfect meal to someone who has been eating the inside of their cheek for the past 12 hours, and one that I devoured like a fiend.

  “Any word from Shorty and Yak, Pauli?” he asked, around a mouthful of sandwich.

  “Not yet, sir. No news is good news, I hope.”

  “Me too. It sounds like they got pretty cooked over there; I can't imagine there will be many survivors.”

  Our second burn, the one that punched the massive hole nearly through the destroyer – that would have been the one that roasted everything. I can't imagine what that would have been like; it's a thought that will give me pause for a good long time.

  The initial impact of the first shot would have probably killed anyone out of their crash harness, and the second, deep burn would have flash-roasted everyone that was left. At least it was over quick.

  “I know the Archaea was built for this sort of thing, but to see it happen, to explore the aftermath first hand... I can't imagine what Shorty and Yak are seeing over there.”

  “Me either, Pauli. I've hulled a few ships in my day, but I've never had an opportunity to use a nova cannon on a ship big enough to keep from breaking apart. It's an amazing amount of energy. I can't help but think that but for Janis, that would have been our fate, and that thought alone makes what we did feel justified.”

  “Oh, I don't regret being the one to walk away from the fight, Captain – even so, it's pretty horrific thinking about what that must have been like for them.”

  “Well, my advice son… don't think about it too much. The decision to use deadly force in defense is something one should be always prepared to make, without a moment's hesitation. They got exactly what they deserve, for choosing to live by the sword.”

  I was mulling that over, when Shorty reported in, in a burst of static.

  “Captain, we've worked from stem to stern, and haven't found any survivors. We can't get into the bow section, each deck is fused at about a third of the way forward, and there are some significant deck warping preventing some of the forward compartments from opening, but there can't be anyone alive forward of the elevator. The decks are still smoking hot in places.”

  “Copy, Shorty. How about the rest of the ship? Are you able to get into the engineering spaces?”

  “Yes sir, aft of the central elevator, everything is accessible, but pretty well roasted. There isn't any paint, and everything combustible has burned. Carpets, acoustic tile, cabling – anything that wasn't well shielded or vented is just cooked.”

  “Is the core good?”

  “It's hard to say sir, everything's dark here, so I can't tell if it will boot up. The core compartment is pretty well protected, so it will probably be fine. The forward turrets on the top-side are slagged solid, but there's a stern battery that looks to be in good shape, and it's a much newer model than what we have. I need Gene and his toolbox over here to help me get them unshipped, though.”

  “What's the air like over there Shorty? Do we need EVA suits?”

  “Well sir, O2 levels are pretty low, and pressure is dropping, so we're definitely venting... the way it looks over here, I am not sure if you'd want to breathe the air anyway, it's full of smoke, and probably smells as bad as it looks.”

  I could only imagine how bad it would be over there. As much of a pain it was to work in EVA suits, at least you only smell your own sweat.

  “Shorty, I'm sending you a shopping list to your handset now, we're going to want to tap their tanks, raid the larders, and pull over any reactives we can find. I'd like to get some tactical EVA gear to replace the old work-suits we have, and Gene has another list he wants to run through as well.”

  “Sir that should all be doable, it doesn't look like the pirates had possession of it for long, and it's a newer model than we served on. We ought to be able to lay our hands on some good gear here. I don't know if we have room for it, but there's a mighty nice little captain's gig in the topside hangar that might fit on our racks.”

  “I'll ask Gene to take some measurements on his way over. Is there anything else you need?”

  “No, other than his tools we ought to be good to go. I think we'll bring everything up to the top hangar for offload to the Archaea. Will that work, sir?”

  “Sure thing – and Shorty – good job over there.”

  *****

  Shorty and Yak met me at the lock, and helped me maneuver my 'toolbox' across into the destroyer. It's a well-worn snaplock case I've hauled from ship to ship for 30 years, and has just about every tool you might need to have, from auto-wrenches to torque drivers, and a whole set of pneumatic tools for a counter-rotation driver – it even has integrated pressure tanks so it can be used in places where there's no pressure line handy.

  Dak had briefed me on what to expect over here, but it was way worse than I expected. This deck was scorched; it looked like the afte
rmath of an alpha-class fire that had burned itself out of oxygen, which is pretty much what had happened here. Pretty much everything combustible had been burned or melted, and in some places the framing and deck plates were warped. The forward sections of all decks from the bridge down were completely slagged.

  Shorty and Yak had cleared through the compartments they could access, and cut their way into some of the compartments they couldn't open.

  “How many KIA did you guys find”, I asked as we wrestled the toolbox past a section of deck that had partly collapsed.

  “About thirty or so – though it's hard to get an accurate count, in the forward compartments. The crew decks are especially grim, if we don't have a pressing need to recover anything from there, I'd prefer it if we didn't go there again”, said Shorty.

  “Sounds good to me, Shorty – it's pretty bad?”

  “It's absolutely terrible, Gene. These people had no chance, they literally roasted in place. Some are charred to the point where you can't even recognize them.”

  I had no desire to get an image like that in my head, but even so, it was impossible not to see the grim reality of what had happened here.

  “Where should we start, Gene?” Shorty asked, as we lugged the toolbox up to the open elevator port. “Down, or up?”

  “It doesn't much matter – but it's going to be a big job pulling those turrets, let's get you started up there, then I'll head back to engineering and get to work pulling spares.”

  We wrestled the box up and through the hole they had cut into the bottom of the car, it was a close fit, but we got it through. They had cut a hole forward in the car, but the companionway was gone, blocked solid with a mass of wreckage, the bulkheads, wall sections and deck plates all folded back and twisted together, fused into a solid mass of metal, thoroughly slagged. The car itself was completely out of round, warped by the heat, and probably welded to the shaft.