by Linn Schwab
Robin shook her head and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with her age?”
The commander seemed to sink deep into thought until Captain McNeil abruptly challenged her.
“Please tell me you’re not contemplating sending ten–year–olds into enemy space,” Jenny said.
“Why not?” Commander Eldridge countered. “One could argue their lives are already endangered. If the Earthlings get past us, they could seize the planet. And if that happens...” She allowed the thought to trail off.
Major Richards appeared unsettled by the suggestion. “Do you really think the Earthlings would kill children, Commander?”
“They already have,” she responded sharply. “Or have you somehow forgotten, Major? The virus they unleashed made no distinction for age. Even the unborn weren’t spared from its cruelty.” She looked at Robin then lowered her head and continued, “And besides, I’ve given them every reason to, now. I’ve killed their children. Why shouldn’t they kill ours?” She shook her head in a genuine display of regret. “I made a mistake when I decided to destroy that station. It’s a pity I didn’t follow Captain Starling’s example.”
Robin briefly thought about telling her the truth, but decided it was best just to keep her silence. It was one thing to confess her own deception, but quite another to risk getting her crew in trouble.
“What station?” Jenny inquired. She looked to Major Richards for an explanation.
“Agricultural station,” the major replied. “Robin’s crew was resourceful enough to track it down, but she spared it because there were children on board.”
Robin found she couldn’t look Jenny in the eyes. She had no idea how her friend might respond to this news. She’d been hoping to keep it a secret from her, but that was obviously no longer an option.
“It was the right decision,” Commander Eldridge insisted. “In hindsight, I wish I’d given it more thought before I ordered the station destroyed.” The others stared at her in silence, confused. “You see,” she went on to explain, “by removing a key part of their food supply, I may have just made them desperate enough to storm the planet at any cost. Only time will tell if my suspicion is correct. But if I’m right, we may need to prepare ourselves for an attack like we’ve never experienced before.”
Robin felt a sudden wave of relief. Not only was she now of the hook with Jenny, but she was also more at ease with her decision not to destroy that enemy station. And the commander’s fears are unfounded, she reasoned. Their food supply is still intact. She closed her eyes and sank back in her chair, thinking, Maybe I can finally sleep well tonight.
* * * *
After working with Katrina for two and a half hours, Suzanne suggested they call it quits for the day, and resume the training session on the following evening. “There’s still a lot for us to go over,” she said. “And the brain can only absorb so much at one time.”
“Alright,” Katrina reluctantly agreed. Though outwardly she insisted she could go on, it was clear that she was getting tired.
As the two of them walked back from the spur side by side, Suzanne began to reflect inwardly on how much she enjoyed working with Katrina, and how much she’d enjoyed working with Sheri before her. There was a satisfying sense of accomplishment that she derived from the task of preparing these girls. She found herself wishing she could do it more often — perhaps return to Volaris again in the future, to work with another training squad. But although she hadn’t been a Hornet long, she was well aware by now that the chances of that happening were slim. This had been a once in a lifetime opportunity that wouldn’t likely ever present itself again. Unless... she pondered as a thought occurred to her. Perhaps there was something Major Richards could do.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said to Katrina, and gave her a gentle pat on the back. “I need to speak with Major Richards.”
“Okay,” Katrina said. “See you tomorrow.”
After asking around about the major’s whereabouts, Suzanne found her working on a report in the infirmary. “Major,” she said, slipping in through the doorway. “Can I ask you something?”
The major looked up from her report. “Certainly,” she said. “How can I help you?”
Suzanne suddenly felt herself stumbling for words. “I was just wondering ... I mean,” she stammered, then paused and started over again. “I’ve really enjoyed the time I’ve spent here, working with these girls and helping to train them. And I was wondering if there might be some way I could work with more training squads in the future.”
From the look on Major Richards’ face, Suzanne expected her to say no. Her actual response was only slightly less disappointing. “I expect your position as a Hornet will probably prevent this from happening again.”
Suzanne frowned and issued a muted plea. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”
The major appeared to give it some careful thought. “I can’t make any promises,” she said, “but I’ll forward your request to Command–net when I have a chance.”
She might as well have just said no, Suzanne mused, then thanked Major Richards and turned around to leave, convinced that her request would never see the light of day. Surely commanders had more pressing concerns than to consider a request made by one fighter pilot.
CASUALTIES 080
When the Calypso docked at Orion, Delia and her crew disembarked and found the base’s commander waiting for them.
“Captain Pomeroy?” the commander asked.
Delia nodded. “Yes?”
“I’m Commander Freeling. Welcome to Orion. Commander Eldridge notified me you were coming. She spoke highly of your efforts in the battle near Pangea. I’m sorry to hear you lost two of your crew. It seems we’ve been paying a heavy price lately.” The commander gestured toward a line of girls behind her — five of them, all in destroyer uniforms, standing at the ready for Delia’s inspection. “These are the survivors of Captain Fischer’s crew,” she said. “They’re younger and less experienced than your own girls, but I’m sure any two of them will serve you well, in whatever capacity you decide to assign them.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Delia said. She approached the girls and looked them over. Each of them wore an empty expression which suggested they’d suffered an emotional loss. Their captain is dead, she reminded herself. And another member of their crew as well. Our own hearts are just as heavy as theirs. At least we’ll all have that in common. “I need systems and auxiliaries,” she announced to the girls, then took a step back and awaited their response.
One of them timidly raised her hand. “Systems,” she said. “My name is Cora. We lost our auxiliaries specialist.” She choked as the words came out of her mouth; the glistening of tears appeared in her eyes.
Delia gave her a sympathetic nod, knowing what the girl must be feeling inside, to face being torn from the rest of her companions so soon after losing two of them in combat. “You’re in,” she said. “Go stand with my crew.” She watched as Cora approached her crew and each of them gave her a welcoming embrace. “Pilot?” she said to the four who remained.
A girl with long dark hair stepped forward.
“What’s your name?” Delia asked her.
“Jordan,” she said, her lower lip quivering.
“Jordan,” Delia explained to her, “I can’t pass up the opportunity to add an experienced pilot to my crew, just in case something should happen to Emily. I’m assigning you to the auxiliaries position for now.”
As Jordan said goodbye to her squad mates, Delia turned to Commander Freeling and questioned her about enemy activity in the area. “What’s been happening over here, Commander? Volaris has been under constant threat for several days.”
“So I’ve heard,” the commander acknowledged. “We’ve been dealing with some threats of our own these past few days. There’s an enemy fleet posturing near this end of Pangea, repeatedly advancing and then pulling back as if they’re hoping to catch us off guard. We’ve al
ready engaged them in several skirmishes, but they don’t seem intent on forcing the issue. It’s like they just want us to be aware of their presence. But the thing that’s really got me troubled is that two of our patrol ships have recently gone missing. Both of them reported coming under attack, and then poof,” she said with a snap of her fingers. “We never heard from either of them again. Like they were snuffed out before they even had a chance to react.”
“That does sound troubling,” Delia said. “No idea what happened to them?”
Commander Freeling shook her head. “With all the recent enemy activity, I don’t dare allocate forces to search for them.” She cast a hopeful look at Delia. “Is there any chance, since you’re in the area, that you could take a look around before you head back? Just swing out to their patrol zone for a while and see if you can learn anything?”
The request made Delia a little uneasy. Two patrol ships gone without a trace? And no explanation of what happened to them? If the Calypso ventured into that area alone, would that number soon increase to three? “Alright,” she agreed after a moment’s hesitation. “We’ll have a look around before returning to Volaris.”
“Thank you,” Commander Freeling said. “I really appreciate this, Captain.”
“What two ships are we looking for?”
“The Kiwi and the Guppy, both destroyers.”
Delia nodded and headed for her ship. “Let’s get moving,” she called to her crew. “Commander Freeling has a mission for us!”
A moment later, the Calypso departed from Orion and headed for the outer edge of Pangea. Delia observed her two new recruits for outward signs of emotional distress, pressing them with drills and tasks along the way, to ensure that their minds remained focused on their duties. She could tell they were sizing her up as well, closely watching her every gesture for a glimpse of her true personality. They were no doubt wondering how competent she was — trying to decide if they could trust her with their lives, knowing that the girls they’d replaced had both been killed. Trust is earned, she reminded herself. I can’t expect them have faith in me when I’ve done nothing yet to prove myself in their eyes. She made a mental note to keep that in mind when considering what to expect of them.
Upon reaching the outskirts of the search area, Delia ordered Emily to swing starboard and follow the asteroid field’s perimeter. “Keep your eyes open, everyone,” she said. “We’ve already lost two ships in this area. Let’s make sure we don’t lose another.”
After a few fruitless sweeps of the area, she turned to her new systems operator and said, “Cora, open up the scanners as far as they’ll go. If there are enemy forces in this area, maybe we can lure them out of hiding.”
“Yes, Captain,” Cora replied. She made some adjustments to her controls, and within seconds the scanner made an audible ping. “I think we’ve got something,” she said. “Looks like a field of metallic debris, two kilometers off the starboard side.”
Delia peered through the starboard windows, but the target was still too distant to see. “Jordan, get a closeup of that area on camera.”
“Yes, Captain.” Jordan spun the surveillance scope around and gradually increased the magnification.
As the camera zoomed in on the target area, the remains of a ship slowly came into view — a Sentinel destroyer, its hull twisted and torn, with scattered fragments glimmering on and off again as they slowly spun end over end in the sunlight.
“Any heat signatures?” Delia asked.
Cora somberly shook her head. “No heat signatures, no power readings. No Sentinel I.D. transmission.”
Delia observed the ship warily, weighing the possibility that it might be serving as a trap. “Take us in closer, slowly,” she ordered. “No one looks at that ship but Emily. Everyone else keep your eyes on our surroundings. If anything moves, we’re gonna make a run for it.”
Emily eased the Calypso around and nudged it closer to its mutilated sister. “It’s the Kiwi,” she announced as she pulled alongside. “Most of her stern section has been shot away.”
“Scanners off,” Delia ordered. “Let’s just sit here awhile and see if anything tries to sneak up on us.” She turned her eyes to the hapless destroyer and tried to determine what had caused its destruction. The trailing edges of what remained of its hull were riddled with hundreds of bullet holes. “That doesn’t look like the work of fighters,” she said. “The pattern of fire is too concentrated.”
“What else could it be?” Emily wondered aloud.
Delia was pondering the same question. Due to their superior maneuverability, destroyers had long enjoyed a certain degree of immunity from the firepower massed on larger vessels. Only fighters possessed the necessary speed and agility to overtake them and bring their weaponry to bear. But even a coordinated fighter attack was unlikely to create this kind of damage. We need to find out what did this, she realized. Commander Freeling was right to be so concerned.
After quietly deciding what had to be done, she looked in turn at each member of her crew and considered the relative importance of their positions. Reluctantly, she stepped over to Jordan and placed her hands on the younger girl’s shoulders. “I’m sorry to have to put this on you, Jordan, after everything that’s happened to you already. But one of us has to go over there. And that duty logically falls to auxiliaries.”
Jordan closed her eyes in anguish, then slowly lifted herself to her feet. She turned to Delia and gave an understanding nod, then exited the bridge to don her spacesuit.
“I’ll help her suit up,” Audrey volunteered, then got up to follow her out the door.
Delia gave her a nod of approval. “Try to keep her calm and focused. And get back up here as soon as she’s clear.”
“I will,” she said before stepping out of sight.
* * * *
“Have you ever done a spacewalk before?” Audrey asked as she gave the EVA suit a thorough inspection.
Jordan slipped out of her uniform until only her stockings and bodysuit remained. “Yes,” she said. “But not out here. Just the practice runs at our training facility.”
“Don’t worry,” Audrey said. “We’ll talk you through it. Just whatever you do, don’t panic, okay?”
Jordan drew in a deep breath and nodded, then leaned in through the open back of the spacesuit. Her head slipped easily up inside the helmet, where the curved glass screen gave a wide open view, ringed with illuminated instrument readouts. Her bare arms and legs plunged into silky softness as she pushed them into the suit’s extremities, where a surplus of padding ensured a snug fit. Within seconds she felt her own body heat being turned back against the surface of her skin. It was the warmest she’d felt since leaving Valhalla; so tempting to just close her eyes and fall asleep, and imagine she was basking in the warmth of the sun.
A snugness worked its way up her back as Audrey tugged the zipper into place for her. A few more pulls drew the suit even tighter around her. One by one the secondary fasteners were secured until at last it was time to pressurize the suit. Audrey’s face soon appeared through the helmet’s window, followed by a quick thumb’s up signal. “Everything looks good!” her voice trickled through the glass. “Are you gonna be okay?”
Jordan sucked in another deep breath. “Just don’t forget I’m out there,” she said, wincing at the thought of being left behind.
Audrey leaned in close to the helmet and pressed her forehead against the glass. “Don’t worry,” she insisted, “we’re not going anywhere without you.” She placed a kiss over Jordan’s left cheek, then wiped the smudge away with her forearm. “You be careful out there, auxiliary girl!” She stepped back and gestured for Jordan to follow her.
The first steps toward the door were like learning to waddle, with so much extra bulk around her legs. But she soon found herself in the cargo bay, waiting for the Calypso’s atmosphere to be reclaimed. When the pressure gage fell to zero, she reached for the door activation controls.
“Can you hear me, Jordan?”
Delia asked over the radio.
“I hear you. I’m opening the rear doors right now.”
“Remember to take it slow and easy. There’s a lot of jagged metal over there. I don’t want you to risk getting stuck on something, or having a hole torn open in your suit.”
“Understood. I’m exiting the cargo bay.” Jordan pushed off with both feet and drifted out between the rear doors. The Calypso had been repositioned so that both ships had their stern sections facing each other, with no more than thirty meters between them. Despite the protection of her EVA suit, the absence of a ship’s metal skin around her left her feeling naked and vulnerable as she drifted from one destroyer to the other. The slightest mistake could push her off course, and send her tumbling away from her target, forcing the Calypso to attempt a rescue. After test-firing the suit’s maneuvering thrusters, she aimed herself toward the Kiwi’s deck, just aft of the central maintenance corridor. The Kiwi’s rear doors had been blown away, leaving the cargo bay wide open for her. “I’m almost to the rear bulkhead,” she said.
“We have you on the surveillance scope now. Do you see any signs of damage from explosives? Rockets, torpedoes, or explosive shells?”
“No, not yet. Just lots and lots of bullet holes. The starboard rocket batteries are gone. The port side batteries still look fully loaded, but they’re dangling by a bundle of cables.”
“Does it look like you can get inside the magazine? I’d like to know if they were able to get any shots off.”
Jordan looked toward the inner hatch. “The maintenance corridor seems to be clear. I’ll see if I can open the door.” A few short bursts of her maneuvering thrusters brought her feet down on the Kiwi’s deck. Magnetic strips in the soles beneath her feet would allow her to walk freely through the ship’s interior, so long as she moved at a cautious pace, and was careful to keep one foot anchored at all times. After passing through the corridor bulkhead, she reached for the magazine hatch control switch. Nothing happened when she pressed it. “The door is inoperative,” she said. “I’ll have to open it manually.”