When Stars Fall (The Star Scout Saga Book 4)

by GARY DARBY

  “Whew,” he muttered to himself, still staring at the endless nothingness below his feet. “That’s a long way down, so watch that first step.”

  Grasping the door’s lip, Dason pushed himself out so that he appeared as if he were a flag on a staff and stretched outward by a stiff wind.

  Energizing his magnetic boots, he swung his legs around until he could feel the pull of his boots toward the ship’s underside. He let go and came to rest standing upright on the Zephyr’s bottom.

  He clumped his way toward the craft’s rear where the engine compartment lay. Through his communicator he heard Shanon question in a concerned voice, “TL, what are you doing? That certainly isn’t jettisoning from the ship.”

  Dason grimaced to himself. He should have waited longer until they were farther away and couldn’t see him. “Uh,” he stammered, “I’m just checking on something. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  “Dason, you’re a lousy liar so don’t try that on me. Spill it. What are you up to?”

  He heard a little gasp in his helmet and then Alena, “Dason, please tell me that you’re not going to try and manually dump the engine core.”

  “What?” Sami interjected. “You can do that? I thought you could only eject it through the onboard jettison system.”

  “It can be done manually,” Alena stated. “But it’s such a dangerous procedure that they don’t teach it to field scouts. Only maintenance techs and ship engineers know how, and they typically use robotic equipment and high-grade shielding to protect them from the radiation.

  “Dason, you’re not a tech or engineer and you certainly don’t have the equipment to do this.”

  Dason spotted what he was looking for in the ship’s underside and anchored himself above four inset bolts. He brought out his macro-torque wrench and set the tool to the correct torque pressure.

  Taking a deep breath, his eyes centered on the troubling bolts that had prevented the core from jettisoning he slowly reached down.

  These were the explosive pins that hadn’t fired off, and if one of them let go now, it could puncture his suit, not to mention his body.

  Slowly, carefully, he pushed his hand down, lightly inserting the torque wrench into the first recess that held the socket head. He reached over with his other hand and turned the little cylindrical machine to the on position.

  A second later, the large bolt popped out.

  He grabbed it and let it float just above the ship’s undercarriage. Just as he placed the torque wrench into the second inset, he heard Shanon, her voice choking, pleading. “Dason! Stop, please. Listen to Alena.”

  Shanon’s plea was heartrending, and it took every ounce of will he possessed not just to answer her, but to stop what he was doing and go to her. But he was running out of time.

  In quick succession, he unfastened the three remaining bolts. He then placed two magnetized clamps on the surface and straining at the weight, pulled the massy deck plating up.

  Once clear of the rectangular hole, he undid the clamps and eased the plating to one side. A stark, bluish light streamed from the opening and Dason flipped his dark visor down over his faceplate.

  A quick flick of his eyes at his suit’s internal radiation counter told him that it had begun its climb toward the red line.

  The red line of death, his instructor scouts had warned them back on Earth.

  He had to hurry, but this was the hard part. Using the magnetized c-clamps to hold himself flat on the ship’s bottom, he would have to reach into the exposed compartment and fish for the arm clamp that held the release lever.

  Since he wasn’t sure that his visor could handle the intense light which could burn out his optic nerves, he reached in and fished for the handle, hoping that he could find it before he received a lethal dose of radiation.

  “Dason, stop what you’re doing! We’re coming back for you,” he heard Shanon call out in his helmet earpiece.

  “No!” Dason commanded. “Stay where you are. That’s an order. I know what I’m doing, and none of you can help. This is strictly a one-person job.”

  “But Dason—” she cried, her voice choking.

  “Shanon, I don’t have time for this!”

  He turned off his communicator and slammed the first c-clamp down near the opening’s top. After making sure the first clamp was holding and secure to the ship, he placed the other near the opening’s far end.

  After placing both boots on the far clamp, he grabbed the other with his right hand and by pushing with his legs and his fixed hand, he was able to lie prone next to the opening.

  He had to turn his head in an awkward way to one side because of his helmet but by scooting close to the edge, he was able to stretch his left arm deep inside the cavity.

  Even through his p-suit he could feel the radiation’s heat. His instincts told him that he had even less time than he had supposed. He closed his eyes, trying to recall from memory where the various engine components were in relation to the release lever.

  His hand grasped a rounded object, and he nodded to himself; that was the synchronizer knob. His hand dropped a little farther down and found the bundle of coolant tubes. Now all he had to do was follow the tubes a short distance up and—

  Something lay over the tubing and stopped his hand from going farther. He ran his fingers over the unseen object’s jagged edges.

  Whatever it was, it was flat and heavy, and wouldn’t budge when he tried to move it. He managed to slide his hand under the object and by wriggling forward just a little, he was able to move his hand and arm until he found what he sought.

  The release lever.

  Only, the thick plating was pressing down on the bar. He took a deep breath; he had to move the plating to bring the lever up into the release position and that meant putting practically his whole body over the hole to gain the leverage he needed.

  He didn’t have any other choice, it was the only way.

  But what it meant was that he would almost instantly receive a lethal dose.

  Soon after, he would be a dead man floating in space.

  Not hesitating, knowing what was at stake, Dason scooted a little closer to the hole. He tried to turn his head away from the burning heat, but the left side of his face burned as if someone had placed a flaming torch against his skin.

  He pushed down on the clamp at his feet to gain more leverage and grabbed at the plating with his free hand. He heaved at the heavy metal cover, straining until he felt as if his shoulder was going to pull out of its socket.

  With another lunge, he lifted upward with all his mouth, grunting and straining with all he had.

  The plating gave just a little.

  Breathing hard, he eased even closer to the edge. “This time,” he muttered to himself, “this time, it’s going to move, it’s got to move!”

  Clawing at the plating, seeking the best hold he could manage, Dason pushed more of his body into the cavity.

  Ignoring the pain from the searing heat, he latched onto the plate and jerked upward with everything he had. He felt the plate move, and thrust his hand and arm into the tiny space.

  Wiggling his fingers, he touched the lever’s rectangular form and strained to pull it upward. With a quick lurch, the bar moved and locked into position. Within seconds, Dason felt a rumbling vibration through the ship’s skin.

  He yanked his arm free and rolled to one side away from the opening. There was a bright flash from inside the compartment and Dason ducked his head away from the sudden glare.

  When he turned back, it was to see the glowing hot engine core tumbling away from the ship. Moreover, what little radiation was left would be contained mostly to the aft portion of the ship, meaning his team, his friends could safely re-enter the craft.

  His friends, Shanon, would live, even if he didn’t and that was good enough for him.

  He lay still long enough to catch his breath. His entire left side was on fire, and when he moved, he could feel the blisters on his skin burst, releasi
ng their fluid in tiny rivulets.

  He pushed himself to his feet and staggered back toward the airlock. His magnetized boots felt as if each weighed a thousand kilograms.

  Pressing on his communicator button, Dason hoarsely whispered, “The core is out. Check the radiation levels before entering the ship, but I think it’ll be okay for you to return, now.”

  He swallowed and then said, “Doctor, I’m sorry but it looks like you’re not going to have to try filet mignon paste, after all.”

  “Dason,” Shanon moaned, “we’re coming. You hurry up, get back in the ship so that we can take care of you.”

  “Okay,” he replied softly, “let me catch my breath for a second.” Stopping to rest for a moment, he found that when he tried to move again, he didn’t have the strength to break his boots free from the ship’s skin.

  He stood there feeling both frustrated and silly that he couldn’t move. He had to get back inside the ship, had to turn it around and send it speeding toward Shanon and the others.

  Brushing a hand across his faceplate, he tried to get rid of the fog that seemed to be getting denser by the second in front of his eyes. He stopped with one hand against his visor.

  Fog?

  You don’t get fog in space, he thought.

  He couldn’t move, and he could think of only one way to get back into the ship. He had to demagnetize his boots and use his suit thrusters.

  His fumbling fingers somehow found the correct button on his chest plate. In an instant, his boots came loose, and he began to float away from the Zephyr.

  From far away, he heard Shanon, but he couldn’t understand what she was saying, besides, he didn’t have time to stop and chat, he had to get back inside the scouter.

  Waiting a moment, he pressed the fire button and felt the micro-jet’s muted hiss. After some time, he realized that he hadn’t oriented himself on the ship when his thrusters let loose.

  That wasn’t supposed to happen, he thought, I should have been aiming toward the Zephyr. Now where am I and where is the ship?

  Cutting the jet, he tried to spot the Zephyr, but he couldn’t find it. How long had the jets fired and in which direction was he aimed when he lit it off?

  He decided that the questions were too hard for him to think about right then, and he needed to rest before he would search again for the ship. He drifted off to sleep.

  Minutes later, intense pain jerked him awake.

  Groaning, he tried to think. What had he been doing before he went to sleep?

  The ship.

  He had to get back to his ship, but where was it? His vision cleared for just a second, and he stared at the countless stars that rotated in front of him, a million tiny pinpoints of brilliant light that enthralled him with their beauty.

  His eyes caught a dull glint of metal that flashed by in the distance. The Zephyr!

  Fumbling with his chest plate controls, he managed to fire his micro-thrusters to swing him back around and stabilize him so that he faced the ship.

  Blinking hard several times to focus his eyesight, he tried to draw a bead on the craft so that he could engage his little thruster jets.

  The ship came closer and closer.

  Suddenly, Dason’s face grew taut and shock and sadness replaced his initial euphoria. He took in several choking breaths, his jaws tight in anger. After all that, he thought, and it leads to is this.

  It wasn’t fair!

  He started to fire his thrusters only to stop in despair. There was no place to hide, no place to run.

  In seconds, he would either once again be a Mongan prisoner or one shot from their laser cannon and he would be vaporized in an instant.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Star date: 2443.098

  Near the Helix Nebula

  Incessant, loud voices seemed to blast in Dason’s ears and he wished mightily that they would go away and leave him alone. In the dorms, novice scouts could be so childish, he thought, with no respect for people who were trying to sleep.

  He thought about getting up and confronting the rude loudmouths but decided he was too tired to make a big deal of it anyway. Besides, it really didn’t matter.

  The Scoutmaster had told him that he was finished in the novice program. Tomorrow, he would be marched out onto the parade field and unceremoniously drummed out of the Corps.

  They might even blindfold him and then shoot him.

  With big, puffy marshmallows slathered in chocolate. How messy was that?

  And all because he dumped hundreds of goldfish into the school’s swimming pool. Couldn’t these people take a joke?

  He really had wanted to stay as he’d just met this girl. Shanon was her name and she was the most—

  The blaring voices came again, interrupting his dreamy thoughts. “We need to push fluids!” someone said. “I’m going to have to insert this IV line in his leg, his arms are no good,” another announced.

  “I recommend doubling the anti-radiation infusion, or we’re going to lose his kidneys soon,” the first voice replied.

  He felt a sharp prick in his ankle and was about to tell them what they could do with their infusion when he drifted back into the blackness of unconsciousness.

  Dason lost all track of time but at some point, a soft swishing sound caused him to become more aware of his surroundings. He couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his lips as he struggled to open his eyes.

  “Doctor,” he heard a soft voice say, “I think he’s coming around.”

  Through bleary eyes, he made out two faces, Shanon, and Doctor Baier peering at him. Baier had a grave and concerned expression, while Shanon’s eyes brimmed with tears.

  “What—” Dason mumbled before Baier placed a hand on his chest to hold him gently down. “Easy, young fella, take it easy.”

  There came a rustling sound and Shanon moved to one side. Jadar’s grave and sorrowful visage moved into view. Dason mumbled, “How—”

  “Like the doc said, take it easy,” his uncle replied. He gave Dason’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You did real good, Dason; saved a lot of lives, including mine. Thank you.”

  Dason waved a limp hand in dismissal. “Thanks, but I don’t deserve all the credit. Team effort. Is everyone safe?”

  “Yes, everyone,” Jadar replied. “You’re in the sick bay of the IntrepidX. The Intrepid’s crew picked up our distress calls and found both Zephyrs.”

  Dason shook his head and muttered, “The Intrepid? I thought it was a Mongan cruiser.”

  “You were hallucinating,” Jadar explained. “Your suit thrusters burned for several minutes and the radiation burned out your beacon. You drifted for a long time until we found you.”

  Hoarsely, Dason replied, “Didn’t mean for that to happen. For some reason after the core ejected, I couldn’t think straight, and I was so weak I couldn’t even lift my boots up.”

  “It was the radiation’s initial effects,” Baier explained. “Sort of messes up the signals coming and going in your brain. The body reacts by wanting to shut down so that the brain can reset itself during sleep.”

  He leaned closer to ask, “Are you up for a question or two?”

  Dason nodded in response. “Well,” Baier said, “I’m still trying to figure out why you felt you had to manually to dump the nucleonic core, knowing that you were going to be exposed to all that radiation.”

  Swallowing, he glanced over at Shanon and motioned with his head. She nodded in response to his unspoken appeal and turned to Baier.

  “It was the suits, doctor.” She gave him a tentative smile and explained, “The suits are rated for only sixty hours in a deep-space environment, and that’s for an average-sized human.”

  “Ah, I see,” Baier replied. “My increased need for oxygen because of my, uh, ample girth meant that I would have succumbed much sooner, I take it.”

  “Exactly,” Shanon replied. “Your oxy generator system probably wouldn’t have lasted more than two days.”

  Baier nodded at her
in understanding. “So the filet mignon ration tube comment was an attempt to divert my attention away from the seriousness of my personal situation.”

  “That,” Shanon admitted, “and code to the rest of us not to let on about the suit’s limitations.”

  Baier inhaled and pursed his lips as he peered at Dason. “You didn’t think a rescue would come in time, so you risked your life trying to save ours.”

  Dason ran his tongue over swollen lips. “I knew that both the Navy and Star Scout Command had pulled back from the Helix.

  “And with the Mongans so close, and no contact with the other Zephyr, the odds were stacked against us for a quick rescue. It was obvious that you needed the ship to survive, and that meant I had to eject the core.”

  “But Dason,” Jadar asked, “how did you know how to do that? It’s not something we teach novices or even academy graduates.”

  Dason tried to smile, but the tight NuSkin bandages on his face prevented him from even managing a tiny grin. “The tech that maintained the school’s scouter fleet. He’d sometimes work late, and I would go down and help. Asked him about it once, and he walked me through it.”

  He swallowed again and started to cough. Shanon dabbed at his lips with a wet cloth to moisten his dry and cracked lips. “Thanks,” he muttered gratefully.

  “He also warned me that if I ever had to do it after a containment breach, and without proper shielding, I would be a dead man walking, or in this case, space walking.

  “I would receive so much radiation in such a short time that not even the most intensive antiradiation treatments would save me.”

  The sorrow, etched deep on their countenances, was plain to see. He managed to squeeze Shanon’s hand and gazed lovingly upon her tear-streaked face.

  “I am glad that I at least got to say goodbye to you. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able after I started on the plating and I didn’t want to let on when you were in the Zephyr.”

  He caught Doctor Baier’s eyes and asked, “That’s right, isn’t it, doctor?”

  Baier gave just a hint of a nod and answered in a throaty rumble, “I’m afraid so, son. We’ll make you comfortable, but we’ve done all we can.”