Oort Rising

by Magnus Victor

  It should have occurred to him that they wouldn't. But then, he'd been a bit distracted with everything else recently. Klaus tapped away at the keyboard – the camera systems would take a minute to re-start.

  As long as he was re-booting that system, he may as well get the others. They might be useful. The communications system wouldn't be much help – the long-distance transmitter had been in the forward half of the ship – but maybe the bridge crew had left a message, or something. They might have seen whatever – or whomever – destroyed the ship. Unlikely, but not impossible.

  The comms system would take a while to boot up, though. The software was newer than the rest of the ship, and wasn't technically backwards-compatible with the hardware that it was running on. Klaus' forced workarounds for that would take a while to re-initialize the system.

  Just as he finished the appropriate commands, the camera system came online. The display switched to a view aft. “Ah, here we go.”

  With the navigation lights off, the gray, horizon-like breadth of the Ad Astra’s hull was visible only from its occlusion of the stars. The 'sky' was comprised of a vast array of stars, covering the rest of the view, except for —

  “There.” Klaus pointed to a patch of blackness, near to the hull. The camera's location tag showed that it was only a few hundred meters forward of the compartment that Klaus and Antoniy were in.

  He frowned. “That's odd. They’ve turned their proximity lights off.” He thought for a moment. “For our suit radios to pick them up that clearly, they have to be close. And at that range, that's barely the size of a cutter, certainly not a capital warship.”

  Antoniy had walked up next to him. “Not terribly friendly of them.” He looked closer at the image, and turned to Klaus. His voice was confident now, without any hesitation. “And that patch doesn't match the outline or size of any Navy cutter." He waved his arms. "This seems off. The Ad Astra breaks apart inexplicably, and then these guys show up almost instantly, claiming to be Navy crew?”

  “You reckon they're behind it? Now what're the odds of that?” Klaus raised an eyebrow. Why would Antoniy become so suspicious all of a sudden? Why wouldn't he want to be rescued by a Navy ship? Could he be on the run, wanted by the authorities for some reason?

  Klaus discarded that idea immediately – there was no way that bumbling Antoniy could have done something to attract that much attention. But...“Who else do you think they could be? Somebody your uncle – the one with that armed starship – ticked off? Sounds like you've got an idea.”

  Klaus had a sneaking suspicion just what sort of low-volume, high-value cargo a decommissioned missile boat could be used for. Smuggling had always been a very profitable, and therefore very competitive, business.

  “There were rumors back at Calypso station about some of the Oort Cloud rebels acting up again.”

  Klaus snorted. “Yeah, but we're just sun-ward of Jupiter's orbit. Light-weeks away from the Oort Cloud. Besides which, we've got nothing they could possibly want.”

  A realization struck him, and he shot a glance down at the neck-mounted status-display lights on his suit. The spacesuit was military-surplus survival gear, and the 'friendly-forces in proximity' light was still off.

  His voice sobered. “You might be onto something – they're not broadcasting a Navy transponder.”

  Just then, the console chirped loudly, a three-note sequence. Klaus frowned – that was a very specific notice. He held up a hand to stall Antoniy's response, and turned back to the console. “Hold on kid, this is important.”

  His hands flew over the keyboard, summoning the alert to the fore. Very odd – the ship's communications system was announcing that it had finished re-booting, which was expected, but also that there was a message in the secure inbox – which was not expected. Only a few people knew about that inbox, used for some of the off-the-books work that Klaus and Captain Sidonia had used the ship for. The only people that Klaus was aware of who knew the commands to send to that inbox were either in the Navy, or in 'Legitimate Business.'

  And one of them had messaged him. That was either very good, or very bad. He brought up the message itself.

  “First responders are hostiles. Help on the way. ” Okay, so that was both very good and very bad. There was no sender listed, but then this inbox was set up so that it didn't require a stated originator for each message.

  Antoniy must have read over his shoulder. “So it is pirates, then. Could there be someone on board that they want dead?”

  Klaus shook his head, puzzled. An odd question. One hell of a jump to an unlikely conclusion. “Not bloody likely. This isn't the movies, kid.” Could this be some sort of botched sting operation? A Navy ship shadowing the Ad Astra, waiting for pirates to show up? Who else would be nearby enough to assist? “If they wanted to kill they wouldn't have approached this close. They'd stand off and bombard us into wreckage. My guess is they're pirates operating out of the Asteroid Belt.”

  “But they did shoot out the crew quarters! We're the only ones left, and that's mostly just dumb luck on our part!”

  The kid had a point, except that he clearly didn't understand cargo ships. “Most freighters have the manned sections amidships. But this old thing” he patted the bulkhead “has 'em all the way in the bow.” He frowned. “Well, had them there. These pirates probably just thought they'd only disabled the forward reactor.”

  “That's still terrible! What do we do?”

  Klaus laughed. “On the contrary, it's good news. For us, at least. Pirates are out to make money, they're here to loot the ore. This tub carries her contract cargo externally. Mark my words, they won't even board the ship. Just strip the cargo off. The crew – us – aren't the target. We'll just sit tight in here and stay out of their way. They won't trouble us.” Even better, if the loss of the Ad Astra was ruled to be due to piracy, Klaus wouldn't be held accountable. With the Ad Astra's cargo taken and her surviving crew not pursued, there was little question as to how a review board would rule.

  “Are you joking?” Antoniy threw his hands in the air. “They've destroyed your ship, killed the crew and you're not going to do anything? Not going to fight them?”

  “With what?” Klaus retorted, his voice rising. “We're outgunned and outnumbered. Nothing to do but hide.” He jabbed Antoniy in the chest with his index finger. “I don't like it either, but we're not the Marines, it's not our job, and we couldn't do it anyways.”

  Antoniy leaned away, defensively. He seemed about to respond, but then double-checked the display of the pirate ship. “You said something about pirates not boarding us?” He pointed at the display. “How close to us is that?”

  Klaus looked at the screen. A half-dozen or so man-shaped black smudges were trekking along the Ad Astra's hull, towards an airlock. The same airlock which Klaus and Antoniy had exited through only a few minutes ago. "Very close."

  The pirate ship was nearer now, undoubtedly so that they could deploy the boarders. Klaus could now make out the highly enlarged engines on the enemy vessel. The sort of over-built engines used only in the far reaches of the Solar System. “I'll be damned — those are from the Oort Cloud. Not ordinary pirates.”

  “Shit. Can you lock the airlocks from here?”

  “No, not when we're on emergency power. It’s a safety measure, in case of an accident.” Klaus snorted. “I don’t think the designers expected ‘hostile action’ to be worth planning for.”

  Antoniy's voice was tense. “Well, can we delay them, then?”

  “We can seal the bulkhead hatches manually.” Klaus looked around the compartment. “But we can’t stay here, too many ways in.” He paused, thinking. “Quick — grab as many rations as you can, and follow me. We’ll make our way to the number-five lifeboat bay.”

  “The lifeboats? They'd just run us down. These guys are after us, not the cargo.”

  “Just trust me — I’ll explain on the way.”As Antoniy and Klaus hurriedly left the compartment, Klaus keyed a set of comman
ds into the control pad by the bulkhead door, which closed behind them. “There, that’ll hold them.”

  Klaus stood in front of the next bulkhead door. “Ah, good. This is the aft blast door – it'll take them ages to pry it open after we lock it.”

  Klaus reached for the controls, but before he touched them, the door slid open.

  A spacesuit-clad figure stood framed in the round opening. The jet-black suit did not match any of the Ad Astra's crew.

  For a moment, Klaus and the newcomer simply stared at one another, motionless. Then, the unknown figure drew something from his waist, and began to raise it.

  Klaus hurled himself to the side. He had barely begun to move when Antoniy flew past him. The pistol fired.

  Rapid-fire impacts walked across Klaus' chest and head. He was knocked back, hard, too stunned to move his arms and arrest his fall. A spider's-web of cracks now covered the faceplate of his helmet, completely obscuring his vision.

  For some seconds, he couldn't breathe. It was a struggle to force his chest to move, to bring air into his lungs. His head was fuzzy. It was difficult to focus. Forcing himself to concentrate, he managed to finally take in a rasping gulp of air.

  Okay, no pain. Might be a good sign, might just be shock. Or he might be dead.

  He slowly felt around on his chest and arms. No holes. He needed more air! The pressure indicator on his helmet read positive, so he ripped his helmet off.

  The gunman!

  Klaus' head shot up, and he looked around the compartment, ready to move. Then, however, he relaxed. Slightly. The gunman lay unmoving, slumped against the rough metal wall, right arm twisted far beyond its natural range of motion. Two closely-spaced holes in his helmet showed why he wasn't moving. Klaus stared dully, as if it were nothing more than a scene from some vid. Antoniy stood over him, examining the enemy’s gun.

  Klaus managed to croak, “Where the hell did you learn to do that, kid?”

  Antoniy snapped his head up, eyes wide in surprise. “Forget that – how the hell are you still breathing?” He gestured to the four small dents on the upper chest of Klaus’ spacesuit. “Four rounds center mass and you’re alive?”

  Klaus grinned, and thumped the front of his suit with one gloved hand. “Military surplus. Two centimeters of reinforced steel. Keeps me alive when things fail explosively.” He grimaced at his cracked, now-useless helmet. “Helmet's dead, though. Thank God there's pressure here.”

  Antoniy nodded. “Told you these guys were dangerous. They must have landed troops ahead of us, bypassing all of those sealed bulkhead doors of yours.”

  “We’d best hurry, then.” Klaus stood, still somewhat unsteady. “Have to get to the lifepod bay before they close in on us.”

  Antoniy stepped past Klaus. “I'll take point. We must assume they've landed more troops ahead of us.”

  Chapter 3: Raven

  Three tense minutes later, they passed through the last hatch and entered the lifepod bay. Antoniy covered the corridor behind them as Klaus docked the hatch closed. His shoulder muscles ached with tension, and the inside of his helmet was humid with sweat. “There’s only this entrance to the bay, and it’s shut for good now. They’d have to cut through ten centimeters of steel to get in, and I doubt they would have brought an arc cutter just to board a freighter.”

  “Well, they do seem to be unusually well-equipped.” Antoniy indicated the pistol he had liberated.

  “Good point. We better hurry. I’ll get her warmed up right away.”

  Antoniy turned around, frowning. “Get what warmed…” His voice trailed off.

  Antoniy stared, open-mouthed at the craft parked in the bay. In stark contrast with the Ad Astra, this vessel was polished and sleek. Its long, thin fuselage and wide delta-wing-shaped heat radiators gave it a predatory look, reminiscent of atmospheric craft from the days when mankind was limited to Earth. A pair of rocket nozzles, charred from use, jutted from the rear, at odds with the smooth curves of the rest of the craft.

  It barely fit within the twenty-meter length of the bay.

  Antoniy pointed at it with one hand. “What the hell is that?”

  “This is my Raven.” Klaus beamed with pride, not breaking stride. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Sure. What’s a Raven?”

  “It’s our escape plan.” He called over his shoulder as he caressed an indentation in her hull. The bow hatch of the craft slid open, and he paused at the entrance, smiling.. “Follow me. I'll start the engines.” He ducked inside.

  He didn’t waste time. Before Antoniy could crawl in through the narrow hatch, Klaus was already strapped into the pilot’s seat, studying a trio of large screens.

  He patted the seat next to him. “Just strap in. The weapons console is deactivated.” Klaus almost wished that the weapons were still installed, but he wasn't sure if he could have trusted Antoniy with them anyway. The kid seemed to have gained years' worth of competence in the past hour, but he was still an unknown quantity.

  He paused. “Damn, I forgot – bay doors won't open remotely on emergency power.” Klaus pointed out at the bay control console near the entrance. “You know how to open them from there, right?”

  Antoniy shook his head.

  “Of course.” Klaus sighed, and unbuckled. “I’ll go, then. Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

  As he was partway across the bay, a high-pitched hiss came from the compartment entrance. A bright spot of light appeared at the top of the hatch, spraying molten metal into the bay. The light began to move, tracing along the outline of the hatch.

  Klaus' jaw dropped. There was no way they could have deployed a plasma-arc torch already, but they had. He'd better make this fast. He ran to the bay-door control console, and entered the launch command.

  The console flashed up a message: 'Personnel detected outside bay entrance. Launch aborted.'

  Klaus gritted his teeth. Goddamn safety feature. No sooner had he thought that than he heard the bay hatch break off and hit the deck with a loud clang.

  Time to go.

  Klaus brought his fist down on the large, red button labeled ‘Emergency Launch’ and threw himself towards the Raven.

  The bay doors flew open, and the artificial gravity re-oriented so that ‘down’ was towards the vacuum of space. A hurricane howled out through the open bay doors as the atmosphere, the Raven, and Klaus — minus a helmet — shot out of the Ad Astra.

  Immediately, Klaus felt the pressure rising within his head, and precious air trying to force its way from his lungs. Panic set in. He was in a vacuum without a helmet!

  His pulse jumped, and he barely stopped himself from reflexively trying to breathe. Breathing out now would be a very bad idea. His eyes pressed painfully, threatening to explode from their sockets.

  The suit contracted around his body, until its pressure replaced that normally exerted by atmosphere. That let him hold his breath without lung damage, and he forced himself to lock his throat closed as if swimming. He relaxed his muscles, to conserve what oxygen he had left.

  He felt some blood vessels in his nose burst, but tried to ignore the pain and focus on his situation.

  At least he was drifting toward the Raven. He compared his distance with his velocity towards it, running some quick calculations. He had, at most, a minute and a half before losing consciousness.

  That would have to be enough.

  The seconds passed with agonizing slowness. Klaus willed his heart to beat slower. He only had so much oxygen, and didn't dare waste it. At last, he was close enough to grasp the Raven's hatch, when something grabbed his arm.

  Alarmed, he spun his head to find himself staring into a mirrored faceplate. No doubt one of the boarders — either he had been waiting outside the dock, or had been thrown out of the bay along with Klaus.

  Startled, Klaus did the only thing he could think of — grabbed the oxygen hose leading to the man's helmet, and yanked as hard as he could. The tube came loose, and instantly, the man released his grip and scrabb
led for the thrashing hose. The thrust of the escaping gas caused him to rotate as he attempted to re-attach the lifeline, and Klaus gave him a hard kick to get him away from the Raven.

  Huh. That shouldn’t have worked on a military-grade suit. Poor reaction as well. No soldier would have panicked like that. Typical pirates. Klaus toggled open the hatch and clambered inside. It sealed behind him automatically, and the airlock quickly re-pressurized. He could breathe again!

  He stumbled into the cabin, still gulping down air. The pressure behind his eyes was gone.

  Antoniy looked at him in surprise. “What the hell happened?”

  How could the kid have missed all that? Ah, Antoniy must not have seen the fight. With the internal screens only showing the view directly ahead of the Raven, Antoniy wouldn't have been able to see the fight outside. And since the Raven's internal gravity would have dampened the acceleration, he wouldn't even have noticed that they had launched.

  Klaus drank the wonderful oxygen back into his lungs. “Boarders got in. Had to launch.” As his pulse slowed closer to normal, he strapped into the command seat and brought up the pilot's display. Hopefully the pirates would be too busy recovering their spaced crewmen, and would let the Raven slink off.

  Suddenly, red flashed around the edges of the screen, and a warning tone blared. Apparently that had been too much to hope for.

  “We're being targeted!” Klaus quickly toggled the flight controls. “Hope you’re strapped in, kid!” He redlined the engines.

  The Raven roared forwards, the power of its twin fusion engines reducing everything behind them, anything ejected from the lifepod bay – including boarders – to cinders. Banking hard towards the enemy spacecraft, Klaus fought the g-forces that crushed him into his seat, leaking through the best efforts of the Raven’s gravity-management systems.

  Another warning strobe flashed on the screen: incoming ballistics. Klaus reflexively threw the craft to the left, dodging the stream of high-velocity shells that ripped through the space where the Raven had been. He smiled grimly. Someone over there’s got good reflexes, too.