Resurrection

by Jeffrey Burger

Fresh out of the spacesuit in shorts and a t-shirt, Sam ran through the open doors to engineering, coming to a dead stop, eyes wide, mouth agape, frozen, stunned by the blackened decimation. “By the Gods, Cap,” he whispered, “how are we even under power?”

  Covered in dust, hands and face streaked with soot, his hair matted against his head from the oppressive heat, Steele turned to reply, his oxygen mask still on, simply pointing at the gaping tear in the fuselage, the stasis field the only thing holding in the atmosphere. “Grab a mask, Sam…”

  Sam stepped past Steele to wipe a hand over a distorted screen, data scrolling, the terminal still active, “That’s not an automated stasis field, the Chief had to activate that - he’s still here somewhere! Did you pull up the floor, Cap?”

  Steele looked perplexed, “What?”

  Sam immediately dropped to his knees, disregarding the heat contained in the metal, yanking up on the recessed latches, “Pull, Captain!”

  Startled into action, Steele dropped to his knees across from Sam, pulling up the hinged plates revealing an access crawlspace for wiring, cabling, plumbing and engine service - the area was cool and clean. And empty. “Now what?”

  Sam let the hatch drop with a clang, “Access passages honeycomb engineering - we keep looking!”

  ■ ■ ■

  “He’s HERE!” screamed Sam, hunched over an open floor hatch running along engine-three. “Hurry!” Steele appeared next to him like he had materialized out of thin air, making Sam start from the suddenness of it. “He… he looks bad, Cap.”

  Steele dropped himself into the passageway beside the unconscious engineer who was blackened nearly head to toe, curled into a semi-fetal position; his arms, hands and upper body covered in burns. The oxygen mask had saved his face and eyes. “Command Master Chief, Daryl Jolly…” he ordered, “we’re going to get you out of here.” It wasn’t much more than a weak grunt, but Jack was willing to take anything as a positive sign. Crouching down to scoop him up, he offered reassurance, whispering close, “You’re going to be OK, Chief, nobody dies on my watch…” Lifting him in cradled arms caused the Master Chief to suck in hard, his body going momentarily rigid. In an instant, he exhaled softly, breathing easier, relaxing to a level that almost appeared comfortable, never having opened his eyes.

  ■ ■ ■

  Wiping his face with the towel around his neck, Steele leaned against the open engineering blast doors, having inspected the panels welded across the fuselage breach. “Well it’s not perfect, but it’ll hold. And at least we can tell what’s-what down here…”

  Sam dropped the portable welding torch in its cradle and swung his face shield up. Wiping sweat off his face and arms with a smudged rag, he tugged off his gloves and let them drop to the floor, “Cleanup was a bitch - I think we’ve gone through every last rag we had, making this place…”

  “Tolerable?” ventured Jack.

  Sam smirked, “OK, we’ll go with that.” He motioned toward the terminals “At least we can see what we’re doing. Yesterday, Latt helped me swap out some terminals from engine one, for the damaged ones on engine two…” He combined a shrug with a shake of his head, “We’re not dead but we’re not great. One is slagged, two is… mmm, at fifty percent tops, and three, remarkably, survived without a scratch.”

  Steele frowned, his brow furrowing, “Think two will hold together?”

  Sam waved off the question with both hands, “Hey, I’m no engineer, I have zero clue.” He flicked a thumb over his shoulder at the welded panels, “I can run a torch in a pinch, but that’s the extent of my talents.” He stepped closer to the screen monitoring engine two, “She looks stable, but I wouldn’t push her…” He glanced back up at Steele, “How much farther do we have to go?”

  Steele gave his MOBIUS a quick check, “We should be out of transit and in Kessler’s Drift in about an hour. We cross the Drift and the next gate drops us in” Cariloon. Cariloon takes us home…”

  “So she just needs to keep going a little longer…” Sam glanced back at the welded plating, “I hope she holds together…”

  “No more detours,” interrupted Jack, an eyebrow raised, “and no more gunfights…”

  Sam nodded, eyes cast down, “I got it, Cap.” He glanced back up, “Have we seen our ambush ship?”

  “As far as we could tell, she didn’t follow us into the gate to Zukagara and we saw no sign of her as we crossed Zukagara. Of course, I suppose she could be back there somewhere, trailing us out of our sensor range - we lost about twenty-five percent of our reach…” Steele shook his head briefly, “But I don’t see them wanting to pursue us into UFW territory.”

  Sam pulled off the welding mask and laid it on top of the portable welder, “How’s the Chief?”

  “Resting, Andrea’s keeping an eye on him. He looked worse than it was…”

  “Really?” interrupted Sam. “Because he looked pretty damn bad to me.”

  Steele dared not reveal the truth, “Yeah, once Andrea cleaned him up and treated him, it wasn’t as bad as we thought, but he’s not going to be back down here for a while.”

  Sam looked down at the grime on his arms and hands, “Once I get washed up, I’ll go check in on him…”

  Jack shook his head, “Nope. Andrea’s got him sedated in a pure oxygen bag, he needs his rest. She’ll let us know when he’s ready for visitors.”

  “Hmm,” grunted Sam, staring at the floor, “OK, guess I’ll get back to work, then.”

  “Take a break, Sam,” urged Jack, “Latt will be down shortly, he’s going to run some diagnostics and see if there’s anything he can improve on. Get clean and get fed, I’ll see you on the bridge later…”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  PERSEUS, IRUJEN SYSTEM : RESURRECTION STATION

  With no discernable ship traffic in the stunning, motionless waves and swirls of iridescent blue dust spread across the New Vanus System, Reegan ventured a GOD jump into Irujen, entering from a distance, on the far side of the uninhabitable planet where Resurrection Station resided in a high, geostationary position.

  Reegan took a deep even breath as the bright, electric tendrils of the GOD iris slid off the hull, spilling them out into the system. “Anything on scans?”

  “Nothing to report…”

  “Not as colorful as New Vanus…”

  “No, it’s not,” agreed Ragnaar. “But it is solid UFW territory. It is likely that we will be greeted by patrol drones that monitor the different sectors of the system.”

  “Unmanned?”

  “Yes. And they should not be underestimated, in the quantity they patrol with, they can easily take down a sizeable ship.”

  “Who controls them?”

  “Owned and controlled by Resurrection Station as an advance defense and surveillance function. The station is UFW run and critical positions in the station are UFW military officers. It might be helpful to think of it as a small Blackmount Station.”

  Reegan rubbed his hands together, “It’ll be good to give our people a little R&R in a relatively safe environment, not to mention getting some repairs looked after…”

  ■ ■ ■

  Resurrection Station was much like Ragnaar remembered it from his last visit two years past… had it really been that long? Though he took note of the completed defense turrets and the finished flight tower superstructure.

  While they were mooring, the station’s gantries extending to connect to the Perseus, he spotted a fighter patrol gracefully passing within visual range. It gave him some satisfaction that he was there when the station was captured - to see it now, a busy hub of commerce and activity. The station stats had listed a contingent of five-hundred-fifty drones, and a wing of twenty-four fighters. Substantial protection.

  The former pirate sat on the grass with his back against a tree, feeling the soft, short blades with his fingers, looking up at the stars through the glass domes of the Ecosphere, the lights low, simulating evening. He filled his lungs with the sweet smell of fresh air, wild-flowe
rs, and an intoxicating scent of negative ions - like after a thunderstorm. Insects droned musically and an occasional bird flitted through the trees. Other members of the crew wanted to browse the concourse shops, he just wanted… this.

  “Bridge to Mr. Ragnaar, please report.”

  Without opening his eyes, Ragnaar growled, his peace and tranquility disturbed.

  Tapping his earpiece, he was abrupt, “Ragnaar here, what?”

  “Skipper needs you on the bridge.”

  “Now?”

  “Affirmative, sir.”

  “Aye-aye,” he grunted, ending the connection. Hanging his head momentarily, he took several more deep breaths, savoring the flowers and tang of the air before pushing himself up off the grass that beckoned his return. “Dammit,” he hissed.

  ■ ■ ■

  Ragnaar entered the Captain’s ready room to find the Commander waiting for him, hovering over the holo-chart. “We have a problem,” he said, turning around slowly to lean against the table. “The rumor mill has Steele on Veloria…”

  Ragnaar’s eyebrows arched, distorting the tribal tattoo that covered his face, “That is a good thing, is it not?”

  The Commander shook his head, “It is not. Something stinks. One of the first things he did upon his return was to disconnect Veloria from the UFW. Claim independence.”

  Ragnaar pursed his lips, “That is… distressing.”

  “No contact, no warning, just an immediate cut. Damn suspicious.”

  “It does not sound like the Admiral to me,” replied the ex-pirate folding his arms across his chest. “We must go there immediately - seek to separate rumor from fact.”

  “We need to maintain Dark Protocol, Lieutenant, there’s too much at stake to risk the inroads we’ve made. That’s why I want you to go investigate.”

  “Me?”

  “Of our crew, you know him best, Lieutenant… You’re the best choice to access the situation.”

  “No, there is someone who knows him better… Fritz. If I am going to do this, I would need to take Fritz with me.”

  “Agreed,” nodded Reegan. “But you’ll have to acquire a ship… you’ll be operating autonomously…”

  A bridge crewman stuck his head through the open doorway, “I hate to interrupt, Skipper, but you’re going to want to see this…”

  ■ ■ ■

  The crew intently watched the live video feed on the big screen, from one of the ship’s hull cameras. Reegan was struggling with the concept, “Is that someone in an EVA suit? Headed out to open space?”

  “That’s exactly what it is,” replied the crewman who alerted them to the event. “We detected an unauthorized airlock activation. If we were a little faster, we might have had time to override it, but without a full staff…”

  “No, I get it,” motioned Reegan, “not your fault. Any idea who it is?”

  “Negative, Sir.”

  “Sir we have an audio message - coming from an internal source - looks pre-recorded.”

  “Play it,” nodded Reegan.

  “This is Commander Derrik Brighton. Effective immediately, I resign from my command, forfeit my rank and relinquish my post with the Perseus and the UFW. My assignment is complete. A full report will be available from the GIS within one week. To obtain a copy of the report, contact GIS Central, directly. Unredacted versions of the report may require certain security clearances. Regards, Major Durock Brithauz.”

  Reegan rubbed his temples, “That’s not how it works - you just can’t do that… Dammit, I hate that man.”

  “Where the hellion is he going,” Ragnaar waved at the screen, “there’s nothing out…”

  A collective “Oooohh,” of surprise escaped the bridge crew, as a dark, sleek ship, wavered into existence like an apparition, directly in front of the lone figure. Entering into what appeared to be an open airlock, the ship immediately started moving, slowly, it’s image fading, wavering like ripples on water before vanishing completely.

  Reegan’s hands dropped to his hips, staring at the empty space where the ship disappeared, “By the gods,” he sighed, “I hope he never comes back, I really do.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Strolling along the small-ship concourse of Resurrection Station, Fritz at his side, Ragnaar spoke softly, his MOBIUS active in audio mode, a full conversation in his earpiece. The ambient noise that surrounded him made it impossible for any casual passers-by to hear any portion of the conversation. “Forgive me, Commander, I fail to see how I’m going to be able to successfully steal one of these ships without getting caught. There are cameras everywhere, security, and if I do manage to get it away from the station, I need to clear the system before a flight of drones, or a fighter patrol intercept me…”

  “Keep looking Lieutenant,” urged Commander Reegan.

  Stopping occasionally to peer out of the observation windows at the ships moored alongside the station, the video coming from Ragnaar’s MOBIUS, was reviewed by the bridge crew of the Perseus, researching details to guide his choices. “These are all too big, Commander, we need something smaller, faster…”

  “Sir, do you have a ship on this concourse? This is a secure area - what are you doing here?”

  Facing the glass, and a two-hundred-foot-long light transport, Ragnaar spun to meet the security officer’s scrutinizing eye, his partner taking a combative angle several feet away. He gave Fritz and angry flick of a glare for not warning him of their approach, but the Shepherd sat casually at his side, a curious head-tilt completing his look of innocence. “Just taking a walk. I like looking at all the different ships - some are very interesting. I wasn’t aware we were in a special area.”

  “Uh-huh. Name?” The security officer opened a screen on his TESS unit.

  “Ragnaar…”

  “Full name.”

  “That is my full name.”

  “Uh-huh. Right thumbprint here,” commanded the officer, presenting a tactile holo-screen. “Are you a station resident or a traveler?”

  “Traveler,” replied Ragnaar, pressing his thumb on the holo-screen, feeling pressure on the surface of the plane of energy, “I’m headed to Blackmount Station - just waiting on a ride.”

  The officer glanced up at him with a dubious look, “UFW?”

  Ragnaar was aware of the fact he didn’t look like or fit the mold of a UFW officer, even though they came from all walks of life, size and race. “Consultant; Pirate Psychology and Operational Tactics.”

  “Uh-huh.” The officer motioned at the dog who sat patiently, his paw held out waiting for attention, “What’s he doing?”

  “You took my thumb print,” replied the former pirate, “he thinks you might want his too.”

  “You’re joking...”

  “Fritz,” articulated the German Shepherd. “Full name.”

  The officers mouth dropped open, his eyes wide, his mouth slowly curling into a smile, “Mylo,” he motioned at his silent partner, “you ever seen anything like that?”

  ■ ■ ■

  “That was brilliant. I can’t believe they just walked away… you two were born for this type of work.”

  Ragnaar’s eyes scanned his surroundings and the people passing, “I fail to see the reason for your celebration, Commander, we still haven’t found a ship yet.”

  “Have faith, Lieutenant. Keep looking.”

  Carefully watching for a return of the security patrol, Ragnaar and Fritz moved on, continuing with their task of finding a ship to meet the criteria required to reach Veloria with the greatest chance of success. Pausing between boarding gate vestibules, the former pirate gave the crew of the Perseus time to access the selection, eyeing the stern of a ship ahead of his present position, finding something familiar about it. “Commander, take a look at this one, it looks like something I’ve seen before…”

  “Looks promising, Lieutenant, let’s get a closer look.”

  Strolling casually, making sure his MOBIUS could see the ship as they approached and passed, his mind flash
ed back a few years; back to the Ynosa, back to Captain Kidd and a private yacht called the Eliza Meru… The fine hair stood up on his arms, an electric sensation on the back of his neck as he replayed the events in his head; the unstable Kidd rampaging through the Eliza Meru, taking the lives of everyone aboard… some sooner than others. The ones to survive the longest, were the ones who prayed and pleaded for death the loudest. It made his blood run cold then - it made his blood run cold now.

  “Lieutenant. Lieutenant… dammit, is there something wrong with our comms? LIEUTENANT!”

  Ragnaar stopped abruptly, mechanically, the video in his head grinding to a halt. Blinking the images from his mind, he turned to look out of the viewport at the ship, realizing he’d passed the boarding gate vestibule and stood even with the bow of it. “Yes, Commander - sorry, a bit of interference there for a moment. I have you back now.”

  “Ah, good. I think that’s a prime candidate, Lieutenant. It’s either a diplomatic transport, or a luxury runner for executives and dignitaries. It’s a Speer & Newsome hull. Fast, with about as good an electronics suite as you could hope for…”

  Ragnaar did a quick visual sweep of the concourse as he turned back for the boarding gate, “Copy, Commander.” He motioned to Fritz, “Watch for security…”

  “Does it have a security card reader, keypad, or scanner?”

  The former pirate stepped past several pieces of luggage stacked in the vestibule, “Card reader and keypad.”

  “Good, insert the CodePik into the card reader, let’s see if we can get you in.”

  Not much longer than an actual security or ITC card, a pigtail antenna dangled off the imbedded CPU to communicate with the Perseus. “CodePik is in.”

  “Stand by, Lieutenant, we’re working on it…”

  Ragnaar leaned back against the vestibule wall to hide the hacking device and casually look like he belonged, a holo-screen opened on his MOBIUS, hovering in front of him where he could look past it without being obvious, “Hurry up, Commander, I’m pretty exposed here.”