Archaea

by Dain White

  We had to move aft on our hands and knees for the first section, as it was almost completely blocked when the outer hull and frame structure had partially collapsed in the heat, but as we moved aft towards the skiff hangar, the sagging ceiling stopped and it opened back up and just looked like a burned out hulk.

  Shorty was right about that gig, it was a sweetie – a little 10-meter runabout. Dak was going to want that, definitely. The hangar itself was in pretty good shape, as the inner locks had been closed, it wasn't too burned out. There was some blistering and heat damage, but nothing looked too bad.

  As we moved aft to the rear turret compartment, it looked almost untouched, which gave me hope for the stern compartments in engineering. I left the toolbox with Shorty and Yak and kicked on back to the core compartment. This far back, through all the locked down doors, there was hardly any damage at all.

  “Pauli, this is Gene – we're at the nexus core compartment now, and it looks good, really good. Do you want anything else in here besides the core?”

  “Gene, I know we're going to want as much of the rack it's mounted on as possible, so we can set up a second core in the engineering space – but you'll know best what we will need for that. I am not sure how much of it is salvageable and what we'll need to fabricate...”

  “Pauli, this is all modular, bolted on. All I will need to do is drill and tap mounting holes, and it should drop right in. Is there anything else we might want out of here?”

  “How about the enviro unit in there? It's probably modular as well, and we'll want independent controls in the compartment we set up as well.”

  “Sounds good Pauli, I'll hack that out of here as well.”

  I got to work on in the nexus room, grinding off welds and disconnecting everything I could reach. The nexus core was pretty similar to the model we had aboard the Archaea, and should plug right in, though I'll leave the wetnet connections to Pauli. The rack came right off, and the enviro unit in this compartment was self-contained with a standalone fuel cell. I made sure I grabbed everything that looked useful and started carting it forward and making a pile in the hangar.

  “Gene, are you at a point where you can give us a hand?”

  “I sure can Shorty, be right there – just making my last load from the hangar now.” I kicked back to the turret compartment and weaved my way through a sea of tool tethers. Yak was on tool patrol, and Shorty was somewhere up in the framing – only her boots were visible out of an access panel.

  “How's it coming Shorty?” I ask, giving Yak a look.

  “Good Gene, I am just working loose the last mounting bolts now. Do you think we can use that gig to pull these out of their sockets?”

  I didn't really like the thought of trying to conn Dak's new baby around in a cloud of debris, twisted hull plates and framing members... I couldn't face those eyebrows if anything happened.

  “No, I can't Shorty – I'm nowhere good enough on the stick to handle that. We're going to need to get the captain over here for that, I think.”

  “That makes sense, well – we're done here, so let's move on down to the gun deck and engineering.”

  She came wriggling down out of the hatch and untwisted the tool leash she had tangled around her neck.

  *****

  Pauli had gone aft to engineering to take a look at the new core compartment he and Gene were going to try to set up, and for a rare moment aboard the Archaea, I found myself alone, with no one to talk at. This wasn't really an ideal situation for me – I had an overwhelming urge to tell people what to do, but no people to tell it to.

  Surely someone needed some leadership around here.

  I chased down another cup of coffee and reviewed the remainder of our course for this leg. We only had a few more hours left before we could slip out of here, and I was raring to go, eager to get a move on from this horrible place.

  “Captain, we're going to need you over here to pilot the gig for us”, Gene said in a burst of static.

  “Sounds good Gene, I'll suit up and head over. How's it coming along?”

  “We're making progress, I am going to walk the core over and will meet you at the lock, Shorty and Yak have the turrets loose and we'll pull them with the gig and just lash them down in the cargo bay for now. They're on the gun deck at the moment, pulling spares, and I will be heading down to engineering shortly to do the same thing.”

  “Do you need my help over there Captain?” Pauli asked, floating up with a fresh coffee in hand.

  “No, I don't think so – I can't really leave the bridge empty, Pauli. I think I need you here to keep an eye on the screens for me.” The last thing I want to have happen, is for something to happen while I am not there to save us in some epic, heroic manner. The thought of us all stranded on that hulk watching the Archaea drift away...that's the stuff of nightmares. No thanks, I think I'll pass.

  I suited up and met Gene in the lock, and helped him man-handle the core and its enviro unit down into the Archaea, and we headed up through the destroyer to the skiff bay. They were not exaggerating when they said this bird was slagged – it was disconcerting to crawl on my face through the smoke-filled top companionway, though it looked like they cleared it out a bit for me.

  As we locked through into the flight deck, the first thing I noticed was the sweet little captain's gig on starboard rack – the other seven things I noticed were the other empty racks.

  “Gene, did you notice the other skiff racks are empty?”

  “Not really, but we've been working pretty hard in here”, he said, looking up at the empty racks. “Do you think they might be the same seven bogeys we chased off earlier?”

  “It certainly seems likely. We never did get a good visual on them... they sure acted like skiffs...”

  I popped the hatch on the gig, and wormed my way up to the helm – it was a tight fit for my heroic shoulders, but not too bad.

  “Gene, let me pre-flight this baby, and stand by to drop her off the rack. I'll just take her out on maneuvering thrusters – let me know when you're clipped on.”

  As I went through the routine of checking levels and charges, making sure jets were free and controls were clear, Gene clipped on a set of tethers to the utility ring by the top hatch, and gave me the thumbs up through the forward hatch.

  “Ready to go Gene?” I asked, and he nodded in return, looking a little pale. “Settle down man, this is nothing. Easy as falling off a log.”

  I talked the talk, now it was time to walk the walk. The gig wasn't the Archaea, that's for sure. It was way lighter on the stick and I had to spin and translate up through the top hatch, then invert for a pick on the turrets. All of this, through a cloud of debris ranging from dust size particles to multiple-ton sections of deck plating slowly tumbling along.

  Gene gave me a full blast of concerned face, though I waved him off and whipped her around smartly, dropping velocity right on the dot, inverted above the turrets. As he worked on hooking them up, I swiveled the command chair back to the crew compartment, and took a look at the gig.

  She was a sweetie, all right. Brand new and looked like she rolled off the line last week, she was rigged for atmo with ramjets and lifters, and even had dual railers. The crew compartment had six couches, and looked pretty well-appointed, as a captain's gig should be. I sure hoped Gene could make her fit in the Archaea's hold, but if anyone can, it'll be Gene.

  Gene was done hooking us up, and on his high-sign, I eased her back and took up the slack, then slowly pulled away as the turrets came loose from their sockets like strange teeth. Gene flagged me to stop once they were clear, and I let her drift slowly away while he strapped them together.

  Once he was done, he grabbed back on and gave me another look, so I babied her back through the mess of debris to the Archaea. Seeing her from out here, I was struck by the contrast in size between our little frigate, and this massive wall of ship she was docked to. She looked like a small remora holding station at the side of a giant shark, but she also look
ed like home, and I was glad to be headed back.

  As we rolled under the Archaea's open cargo bay, Pauli was suited up and waiting at the crane controls, looking down with wide eyes at Gene perched on the top of the gig, a turret in each hand. I pushed her gently forward until we were in reach of the cargo crane and they hauled up the turrets and secured them to the bulkhead while I cooled my jets and watched them work. If there's something I never tire of, it's watching other people work.

  Once they were situated, and Gene gave me another look, I waved them aside and brought the gig in just as easy as a leaf, hardly rubbing the paint off the rails. From the look on Gene's face, you'd have thought I tore a wing off.

  *****

  Jane and I met Gene coming back through the lock, and he helped us off-load an assortment of stepper motors, pumps, tanks of plasticine, ferrene, water, gear oil, and various boxes and crates of tool, parts, and other assorted odds and ends.

  Shorty was disassembling everything she could get her hands on, and I was doing my best to keep up, but she was a gearhead and all I was really good for was heavy lifting.

  “Are you guys just about done taking her apart?” Gene said, looking over the growing pile of parts we were amassing in the cargo hold.

  “Nice, Gene”, Jane said. “We lugged your toolbox down to engineering for you already, while you and the captain had fun flying around.

  “Fun? That's a laugh, Shorty. Next time Dak wants someone to hang on for dear life while he blasts around tons of whirling death, you can volunteer.”

  “Oh come on Gene, you live for a life of danger and adventure, don't you?”

  I laughed, despite the look of murderous intent Gene flashed at Jane, or maybe because of it.

  We kicked on down the companionway, and I reflected on how quickly we went from pushing terrified into the unknown dark, to familiarity. Jane and I were still strapped, but we were definitely at ease. Who knows what thoughts we might have later, remembering images we've locked away behind the companionway hatches in our minds – but for now we were on mission.

  Gene was like a kid on Christmas morning in the engineering space, pulling parts and pieces off of the machinery, taking valves, sensors, crates of parts he found in a storage compartment under a deck hatch – he was keeping me pretty busy, working like a Sherpa. Jane had taken a station in the cargo hold back aboard the Archaea, organizing, sorting and strapping down cases and boxes, like some brutally efficient pint-sized quartermaster. Between Gene on one end of the trek, and Jane on the other, I was really starting to feel the burn of a good sweat.

  “Gene”, the captain's voice crackled in our helmets, “I have been thinking more about those seven empty berths. Do you know when you'll be done field-stripping this beast?”

  I chuckled to myself, imagining the look Gene is flashing at Jane right about now.

  “We're getting there, Dak – I have just about all I need from engineering...I want to make a quick check through the bilge deck in case there's anything else we can't live without, but then we should be good to go.”

  “Make it snappy please. I don't want to be here if the seven dwarves come home.”

  Jane and I met Gene coming out of engineering, and we dropped down the elevator shaft. I was just about to the bilge hatch when something drew me up short. I'm not a jumpy person by nature, but I've spent enough time in combat, with real live people shooting real live ammo in my direction, to have a sixth sense for danger. My hackles were up, and something didn't smell right.

  Jane's eyes opened wide, and her gun was at the ready and aimed at the hatch almost faster than I could see her move. Behind and above her, Gene hooked on to the wall and flashed a concerned look down the shaft at me. We all clicked off our helmet lights and set image amps to max.

  “Captain, be advised, Yak may have some activity in the bilge” whispered Jane. “We're moving in now, stand by.”

  “Roger, Shorty – stay frosty and keep me posted.” His voice was heavy with concern, but rock-solid and calm in my ears, in diametric opposition to the sudden hammering in my chest.

  I waved Jane down to take a position at the opposite corner of the hatch, and mirrored the companionway leading aft through the bilge compartments. At first I didn't see anything, but then a brief flash of movement all the way towards the stern caught my eye. I slowly pivoted the mirror until I could see what looked an awful lot like two men lined up to pop the next person through that hatch right in the dome.

  I looked up at Jane, and pointed at my eyes, then held up two fingers. She nodded, and took a wrap in her rifle sling, sighting down at the open hatch. I took another quick look with my mirror, and noted two firing positions on either side of the companionway, right where the next bulkhead met structural framing inside the companionway opening.

  “Jane,” I whispered, “we have two firing positions to port and starboard of the companionway with solid cover. It looks like we have similar positions all the way down the bilge deck, so we might be able to leapfrog to grenade range if we cover our advance with suppressing fire. Are you up for this?”

  She nodded her head violently, never taking her eyes off the hatch.

  “Okay Jane, I am going to toss a flashbang, and then we're going to push that position as hard as we can – here we go, on three...two...one--” I pulled the pin and hooked my arm around the upper edge of the hatch, and hurled the grenade as far as I could right down the corridor like I was throwing a touchdown pass, shut my eyes as tight as I could and waited for the flash.

  When it went off, the light and sound in the enclosed space caught me off guard, but they always do – even when you know it's coming, you never really remember how horribly loud and bright they are.

  Even though I had my eyes tightly shut when it went off, I could barely see through the afterimage of the explosion as I boosted around the edge of the hatch and kicked for the starboard bulkhead – but I could see well enough to spot a man standing in the open at the end of the hallway. He looked just like a target silhouette in a shooting range, and I put two shots from my chemser right through him at center mass, and watched him kick loose and tumble.

  Jane was in position now on the port bulkhead, and popping fire down the corridor, so I pushed ahead to the next station, praying her aim was tight. As soon as I tucked in, I started suppressing fire, and she moved up to the next station ahead. As she moved up, a shape at the end of the corridor leaned out, and I put two shots through his helmet.

  Jane and I checked fire, and waited a moment to see if anything else was moving at the end of the hall.

  “Captain, two down.” Jane breathed into my ear. “Rolling up now Yak, cover me.”

  I had the end of the hall scoped, and she moved down slowly, carefully keeping out of my field of fire.

  “Clear, move up.”

  “Roger, moving up”, I said, kicking off down the corridor.

  It doesn't matter how many times I've looked down the barrel of a rifle and watched a man fall because of my action, my finger on the trigger, my will to survive – the mind still recoils in horror at the savagery and brutality of the moment.

  All the training in the world can only help you push that emotion aside and focus on shooting straight, and shooting first – but afterward, in the dark of the night, in the shadows behind your eyes, that feeling of the trigger being squeezed, the waves of emotion and sick fear like a hot pit in the bowels of your soul come rushing in.

  Even the toughest marine feels it, the remorse and shock, the connection made and broken forever between enemies on the battlefield. I knew it would haunt me, another terrible and exhilarating memory to be filed away forever in the cold, dark room in the very back of my mind.

  As much as I didn't want to, as I moved up I couldn't help but come face to face with the reality of what had just happened. Both men were clearly dead, slowly floating amidst red globules of blood despite cauterization from the chemser fire.

  Jane moved up, and touched my shoulder, held her h
and there for a moment, and I just about broke down and wept at the humanity in her simple expression.

  “We had no choice, Yak”, her tiny voice whispered in my ear.

  I sat there for a moment, locking the scene away, saving it against a future time when I might no longer care, might not have this humanity in my heart.

  “Yeah...it's just...it never gets any easier.”

  “I know...but those men were going to kill us, Shaun. If it wasn't for us coming along to give Gene a hand, it would be him lying here at the end of this corridor right now.”

  She was right, of course, as emotional as she might be at times, right now her heart was tempered steel, her eyes were cold as ice. Despite the bodies, despite the crushing waves of emotion, of fear and regret, we had a job to do and we didn't have time to waste.

  “You're right, Jane. Let's get that hatch open and see what these clowns were trying to protect.”

  “That's the spirit, Yak – crack out that plasma rig and cut me up a slice of that hatch”, she said, taking up a firing position at the nearest bulkhead.

  “Captain, Gene – Yak and I are making an entry on a sealed compartment at the stern end of the bilge. Please stand by.”

  I took a position to the side of the hatch opposite of Jane, and started cutting, white-hot globs of molten metal spalling into the corridor around me, sparkling brightly through my darkened visor. When the lock section had been cut away, I looked back to make sure Jane was in a good position, and at her nod, hauled open the hatch.

  She gasped in my ear, as I looked in and saw a man in manacles, lying on the floor.

  *****

  I left Janis in charge of the bridge, with explicit instructions to notify me immediately of any condition I might need to know about, and then to take whatever action she needed to take if I wasn't able to respond quickly enough, and Pauli and I met Gene, Yak and Shorty in the sick bay. They had an NRB mask on the prisoner's head, but he had a weak pulse, and looked blue.