by Jake Bible
North raised a finger to ask, about to make a point then smiled.
“Something happened, didn’t it?” North asked. “Something out in the colonies happened. The CSC won too well, didn’t they? They wiped out the competition.”
“Yes,” Dornan said. “Only a small fraction of the CSC actually knows the truth. A few generals fought the good fight too well and won. It’s not the first time. It’s happened before, on both sides.” He tapped the back of his head. “That’s why we have the interface chips.”
North shook his head. “All the recruits we were about to train, they were going to be sent out and turned into Estelians, weren’t they?”
“To us, yes,” Dornan said. “Their chips would be altered and they would have become the other side so the CSC would have someone to fight again and the profits would keep rolling in. But to the recruits, we would all of a sudden become the Estelians. Their chips would overwrite their minds with the narrative the CSC wanted them to know. It would be as if they’d never even thought any different. The war would have new players and go on. Business as usual.”
“Jesus,” Wendt muttered then sat down. “That’s heavy. And that medal will tell everyone that?”
“The medal will unlock the data and send it out,” Dornan said. “It’ll be what tells everyone—”
The communications console beeped loudly and Wendt turned and looked at it.
“It’s picking up an emergency message,” Wendt said. “Coming in on a command backchannel.”
“Bring it up,” North said.
“We don’t have time for this,” Dornan said.
“We make time,” North said. “People may not understand what’s real, but they are still people. We help who we can.”
“Fine,” Dornan said. “You do that while I get this ready.”
North nodded and Dornan moved past Wendt to the console. He inserted the medal and the entire console interface changed. North stared at it for a second then looked at Wendt.
“You’re going to have to let the emergency message through,” North said. “I have no idea what the hell is going on with this shit.”
“Uh…” Wendt responded, looking just as confused.
“Here,” Dornan said, tapping at the interface. “You now have your message.”
“Perpetuity! Perpetuity, please come in! This is Captain Deena Valencio! I am calling to alert you to an Estelian destroyer punching towards you! It is en route and will appear any second now! Perpetuity? Perpetuity? Do you read?”
“Shit. The armada. One of the warships made it,” North said. “How do I respond?”
“You can’t,” Dornan said. “You’ll destroy the data loop.”
“At least we know that the destroyer isn’t actually Estelian,” Wendt smiled then frowned immediately. “Not that it makes a difference. A destroyer destroys.”
“Not if I can help it,” North said as he moved towards the hatch. “I may not know how to work that convoluted communications interface, but I do know how to work this station’s defenses.” He smiled at Dornan. “You get the data out there and I’ll get the Perpetuity’s weapons system online. How long do you need?”
“Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty,” Dornan said.
“I’ll get you that much time,” North said. “I may not be able to get you more.”
“Wait, what does that mean?” Wendt asked. “If you can’t get him more time then doesn’t that mean the station gets destroyed?”
“Yeah, it does,” North said. “We’re talking about an Estelian destroyer. This station has limited capabilities compared to that thing. If their crew is even remotely competent then they’ll blow us out of the vacuum pretty damn fast. I need to make sure it’s not less than twenty minutes fast.”
“But we can tell them the truth, right? If Dornan gets it out there then they’ll know not to kill us,” Wendt frowned. “Right?”
“All I can do is release the data,” Dornan said. “It’s up to each person to believe it. The truth means nothing unless people choose to believe. Some will, some won’t. Words, even with the data collected in this transmission, will not be enough. Many will need actual proof. Proof they can actually touch and feel. It’ll be far from over once I start transmitting.”
“Shit,” Wendt said.
“Come on,” North ordered. “You’re coming with me.”
“I am?” Wendt asked.
“You are,” North said, tapping his wrist. “My interface keeps crapping out. I’ll need you to get things working for me.”
“Fine,” Wendt said. “Better to die doing something than sitting around here in my underwear.” He looked down at his boxers. “You think we could stop and get me a uniform?”
“No time,” North said.
“I didn’t think so,” Wendt sighed. “Let’s go.”
Fifty-Eight
London stared at the corpses all around the Mars platform’s bridge.
“Jesus, they butchered each other,” London said. “At least they blew the quads out of the vacuum first.”
“Automated,” Valencio said as she pushed away from the communications console and rubbed at her temples. “The weapons system kept firing until it was empty.”
“Looks like the crew did the same thing,” London said, nudging a scorched corpse with the toe of his boot. “Why would they do this?”
“I’m guessing it’s the pharma,” Valencio said. “Look at all the injectors. If you were thinking of having a boost, you may want to think again.”
“Good call,” London nodded. “My mother always said pharma would lead everyone down a path of destruction. She’d love seeing this.”
“She’d love seeing a bridge full of dead bodies?” Valencio asked.
“Well, no, probably not,” London said. He turned away from the corpse-covered floor and glanced out the bridge’s view windows. It was nothing but battle wreckage for as far as he could see. “You think the message got through?”
“I hope so,” Valencio said. “If not then we may be all that’s left of the Perpetuity.”
“We could make our own training station right here,” London said.
“Who’d we train?” Valencio asked. She looked down at the bodies. “Them?”
“I’m going to shut up now,” London said. “Maybe I’ll go find us something to eat. Hungry, boss?” Valencio rolled her eyes. “Not hungry. Got it.”
He walked out of the bridge, picking up a scorcher and putting it to his shoulder, just in case. The corridor was littered with plenty more corpses and injectors.
“Damn. Pharma would hit the spot,” he muttered.
“No pharma!” Valencio yelled from the bridge.
“I know!” London said as he kept walking.
Fifty-Nine
North and Wendt reached the Perpetuity’s bridge just as the destroyer punched into the vacuum. It loomed in front of the station, its hull scarred from battle.
“Wendt, I need weapons now!” North ordered as he was about to sit down at the weapons station console.
“Then move,” Wendt said, shoving North to the side.
North watched out the view window as the destroyer began to turn, setting itself for the best firing position. “Wendt!”
“I’m working on it!” Wendt said. He swiped at the console interface, entering commands, rerouting protocols, tearing down firewalls. “Shit! It’s not letting me in! It really needs command authority! This shit is not messing around!”
Then Wendt spun in his seat and looked at North. He smacked his forehead and shook his head back and forth.
“I’m a moron,” Wendt said. “It would be way easier to just fix your interface. Get over here.”
North stared out the view windows.
“North? Get over here,” Wendt said then turned back to see what North was watching. “Oh, shit…”
The destroyer was firing all plasma cannons directly at the Perpetuity. Plasma bolts were flying straight for the station.
“You may
want to hang on,” North said just as the bolts hit their target.
The station shuddered and claxons rang out. The lights on the bridge flickered then dimmed as dust fell from the ceiling.
“North. Your interface,” Wendt said. “We need that up and working.”
North moved to Wendt and the sergeant grabbed his arm. He studied North’s wrist for a second then set a pouch of tools on the weapons console, pulling a very sharp blade out.
“Where the hell were you keeping that?” North asked the man that sat there in only his underwear.
“You don’t want to know,” Wendt said. He looked up at North and frowned. “This will hurt.”
Then he sliced into North’s wrist, set the blade aside and grabbed up two other tools from the pouch. He began digging around until he found what he wanted.
“That…can’t be…sanitary,” North said through gritted teeth. He really wanted a hit of pharma, but he had to push that thought from his mind fast before it took him over.
“Don’t worry about infection,” Wendt said as he worked. “We’re going to die when this station blows up. We just need you to keep that from happening long enough for Dornan to do his thing.”
Wendt kept working as another round of plasma bolts hit the station. The claxons got louder and the lights grew dimmer.
“Done,” Wendt said. “Now hold still.”
North didn’t have time to reply or react as Wendt placed a small box against North’s wrist that had a button on top. Wendt pressed the button then dragged the box along the incision on North’s wrist.
“Motherfucker!” North yelled. “What the hell is that?”
“I use it to splice cables together,” Wendt said. “I figured it would work on skin. Looks like it. Give your interface a try.”
North reluctantly pressed his wounded wrist. His interface image popped up and he grimaced, which was about as much of a smile as he could muster.
“Good work,” North grunted. “Move.”
“North?” Dornan called over the comm. “Can you read me?”
“I can now,” North said. “How are you doing down there?”
“I need five more minutes,” Dornan said. “Is that possible?”
North brought up the weapons system controls and then looked out the view window.
“Shit,” North said. “Five minutes may be too long.”
“Oh, Makers,” Wendt whispered as a battery of missiles shot across the vacuum towards the Perpetuity. “We are so dead.”
“What did he say?” Dornan asked.
“Never mind,” North said as he targeted all of the Perpetuity’s weapons on the incoming missiles. “Just keep working.”
North fired and watched as the station’s cannons tried to take out the missiles. They managed to stop half of them. The rest kept coming.
“You still want me to hold on?” Wendt asked. “Because I don’t think it’s going to matter.”
The missiles hit and the claxons stopped. The lights flickered and went out before the backups kicked in, shading the bridge in a red glow. North watched in horror as the weapons console shorted out then one by one all the different systems consoles shorted out.
“We might as well be in the mess hall for all the good this place will do,” North said. “Better pray to the Makers again. We’re done.”
North and Wendt stared out the view window at the destroyer, ready for the next attack. It came quickly. More plasma bolts flew out from the warship and ripped into the Perpetuity. North held onto the console as the whole station shook. There was a loud crunching noise and North’s ears popped.
“We’ve lost pressurization somewhere,” North said. “We’re leaking atmosphere.”
Then it felt as if the wind had been knocked from his lungs as he stared at the impossible sight before him. Out of nowhere, a cruiser punched into the vacuum, right next to the destroyer. But it wasn’t just a cruiser. Attached to its side, and quickly flying off in the direction of the destroyer, was what looked like the wreckage from a warship of some type. It was too mangled for North to tell what type, but he could care less as the wreckage collided with the attacking destroyer, tearing it in half and sending it careening off away from the Perpetuity.
“Hot damn!” North shouted. “Would you look at that?”
“Yeah, that’s great,” Wendt said. “But what about us? What’s that new ship going to do to us?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” North said. “Dornan got his five minutes.” North activated his comm. “Dornan? You there? Dornan?”
“Systems are down, North,” Wendt said. “The comm is offline for the whole ship.”
“I know where a comm will work,” North said. “Follow me.”
“How about I just stay here,” Wendt said. “The view is nice.”
“Where I’m going could mean we live,” North said. “Not sure why I didn’t think of it sooner.”
“Live?” Wendt exclaimed. “You lead, I follow.”
Sixty
The cargo skiffs sat there on the flight deck, all waiting for their next missions. Unfortunately, only one would ever see the vacuum again.
North opened the back hatch and gestured for Wendt to get inside.
“Get the comm up and find out if Dornan was successful,” North ordered.
“What are you going to do?” Wendt asked as he hurried inside the cargo skiff.
“Get some supplies,” North said, nodding to the pallets of crates off to the side of the deck. “We’re leaving this station now and we may be out in the vacuum a while. I want to make sure we have enough fuel cells and ammunition to survive.”
“Food and water would be good,” Wendt said.
“Not from those crates,” North frowned. “We’ll have to deal with that later.”
“Okay,” Wendt said.
North had to make his way around and through a couple dozen corpses to get to a pallet jack. It looked like the flight crew had turned on each other, using whatever was at hand to crush skulls, break bones, and tear open throats. North was well past being shocked by the horrors, though. It had been that kind of day.
He grabbed the handles of the first pallet jack he could find, studied the stenciling on a stack of crates, then slipped the jack under and rolled the crates backwards until he could get around the corpses and turn the pallet towards the cargo skiff.
By the time he’d gotten the pallet on the skiff, Wendt was standing at the cockpit hatch, his face white.
“What?” North asked. The station shuddered and his ears popped again. “Shit. What is it, Wendt?”
“You better come talk to Dornan,” Wendt said.
North set the pallet down and shoved the jack out of the back of the cargo skiff. He pushed past Wendt and into the cockpit then activated his comm, piggybacking off the skiff’s communications system.
“Dornan? What’s the news?” North asked.
“I got…it…out,” Dornan said, his voice weak and short. “But…it…didn’t go…far.”
“What does that mean? It didn’t go far? How far did it go?” North asked.
“Don’t know,” Dornan said. “I’m still…trying…to…transmit. But…console took…a lot…of…damage.”
“Dornan? How much damage? Dornan? Listen, we’ll come get you,” North said. “You hang tight. We have a way off the station. We’ll get the message out ourselves. Can you lock onto me and send it to this skiff?”
There was no response.
“Dornan? Hold tight! We’re coming!” North shouted.
The entire station shook and the struts over the flight deck began to groan.
“We have to go, Major,” Wendt said. “We can’t go back down for him.”
“We have to,” North insisted. “Or this was all for nothing.”
“He said he got the message out, he just didn’t know how far,” Wendt said. “That means someone heard it.”
“We need everyone to hear it!” North said.
A warning
beeped in the cockpit and North glanced around until he saw what it was.
“Shit,” he said. “Incoming.”
“Then we really have to go,” Wendt insisted. “We won’t hold up against that other ship.”
“Okay,” North said then double checked the scanners. “Wait. The missiles aren’t coming from the other ship. They’re coming from Earth!”
“Well, looks like we know someone down there heard us,” Wendt said. “Can we go now?”
“Yeah,” North said. “Strap in.”
Sixty-One
The cargo skiff shot out of the Perpetuity, a small dot against the crumbling wreckage of the massive station.
North kept the thrusters pushed to full, aiming the cargo skiff out and away from the cruiser that loomed over it. He had no idea where the cruiser had come from, but considering he didn’t know who to trust, he couldn’t take the chance of being set upon by the warship.
Not that he expected to stand a chance against the cruiser if it decided to open fire on the skiff. He knew he and Wendt would be vaporized instantly. But he banked on the fact that the cruiser looked as damaged and beat up as he felt. All he needed was for it to just stay where it was and not attack for five minutes so he could get the interspatial drive on the skiff up and going.
“Where are we going to go?” Wendt asked, his eyes wide and locked onto the cruiser in front of them. “We can’t just fly around forever. Should we put out a distress signal?”
“No!” North barked. “We stay off the comm. The CSC didn’t send missiles at the Perpetuity because they wanted witnesses.” North looked at the scanners and frowned. “This is going to be tight. Strap in.”
“I am strapped in,” Wendt said as he tightened his harness.
“Then double check your flight suit,” North said. “When the Perpetuity gets hit with those missiles, there will be a million projectiles filling the vacuum. Most of them exploding out towards us.”
“And if this skiff gets nailed? Then what do we do?” Wendt asked. “Float around until we can—”