The Deftly Paradox

by Matthew D. White

  The XO cautiously stepped forward, his head pounding from the crushing concussive blast and wafting the thick smoke from his face. It cleared fast and he quickly discerned the heavily damaged, armored door bent back upon itself, crumpled and nearly shorn from its hinges. “I think we’re making progress.” he announced. “Door’s disabled; bring the gun forward so we can get a shot at the core.”

  Leo continued to hang back from the excitement, preferring to leave the action to the maintainers and weapon loaders who evidently knew what they were doing, at least more than she did. Like a well-ordered mechanism, they used a driver to pull up the stakes from the deck and wheel the carriage forward, carefully maneuvering around the twisted remains of the door.

  She approached them slowly, only to feel the floor shudder beneath her feet. The XO caught his balance on the doorframe, exploding in a fit to the rest of the crew amidst a blaring siren.

  “That’s it! We’re taking fire from Avalon’s defenses! Dammit, stop that thing before they drop us!” he shouted, grabbing for the front of the cannon and pulling it within sight of the power reactor. “Arm it! Let’s go!” he called out again.

  From the back, Leo saw the loader arm and place another round in the chamber before sealing it tight and deftly hopping free of the cannon. Their gunner waited for no more instructions and hit the trigger one more time. The cannon and all the figures behind the doorframe disappeared in a sharp detonation as the round ignited, rupturing the massive breach. The back blast rushed down and sent Leo flying to the deck.

  Her vision behind the visor washed out from the explosion, but she knew the reactor was gone. The lights above her flickered off as the charge drained off the system. In front of her, the only movement was from the dancing fires in the reactor facility. No one emerged.

  Leo keyed her radio, unable to hear her own words, but hoped someone else would. “Bridge, operation successful, reactor down, team MIA,” she added, scrambling to the threshold to peer around, spying the burning, particulate remains of her companions. “Update. Maintenance team KIA.”

  The deck beneath her feet began to list, the first sign that their ship was draining power from life support. In an awkward run, she stumbled back, aiming for the concourse and with any luck some crew members with a plan to get off their derelict ship. More rumbling explosions kicked at her beneath the floor and she tumbled down, barely catching herself on her hands before scrabbling onward.

  ***

  “Fourth battleship down.”

  The statement felt hopeful for Lorde, as their targeting was effective and the battleships had yet to change course to intercept their advance. The captain grew bolder, standing taller than he had when they first arrived and confidently overseeing the counterattack.

  Lorde relaxed as well, until a glint of silver caught his eye in the distance ahead through the forward screen. From far off in the darkness, a single destroyer streaked across the sky and arced in to meet them. “Sir…” he mumbled to the oblivious captain and subconsciously backed toward the hatch. It grew steadily larger, bearing down on their position. “ Captain, incoming!” Lorde shouted and dove for the ground.

  Commander Seel looked up as the metal object filled the screen. He inhaled as if to give the command to evade but was too slow. In a fiery show of force, the smaller ship plowed into the cruiser’s command deck, smashing its way through a row of supporting structures before breaching the seal of the bridge.

  A sudden rush of roaring atmosphere barreled over Lorde’s head as the air supply was pulled from their deck. He dug his fingers into the floor plating, dragging himself toward the rear hatch a yard away. Over a blaring siren, he could see it riding closed at the will of an automated actuator.

  He pushed himself up once more, caught the lip with a finger, and heaved himself across. The hatch passed above Lorde’s head and he pressed himself down so as not to catch the unceasing advance of the metal disc. His hands turned white beneath his armor as he felt the rushing force dwindle and he collapsed to the floor. Lorde looked up to the hatch, then the dim corridor around him. There was no movement; no one else had made it across the threshold.

  Still feeling the wind tunnel wrap around him, he unsteadily got to his feet. The ship was lost, he knew that much, as he felt the gravity shift as their engines failed and they began a long, torturous drop to Avalon’s surface.

  There was nothing more he could do without access to the others. If they didn’t yet have a similar experience, he needed to warn them. His thoughts immediately skipped to his transport crammed in the tiny support bay at the far end of the ship.

  “Hull’s compromised!” he keyed his radio and called forward to his tiny crew. “Evacuation’s begun; I’m on my way, get us ready to launch!” he added, sprinting down the passage as additional explosions echoed through the decks above and below. “They just hit us with a damned tug. Tell the defenders to keep their distance!”

  ***

  Yet another power line ruptured on its way between the reactor core and the engine which it served. As each successive safety mechanism failed, the explosive shockwave rocketed down the battleship’s frame, getting stronger as its destiny approached.

  The jolt sent Leo flying from her feet and slammed her into the leftward wall of the final corridor before the bridge. She went to her knees, maintained focus, and with fingers grasping at the metal flooring, pulled herself back up toward her destination. Smoke wafted in the air along with the constant blaring of sirens.

  They listed to the side as their internal gravity failed, and she knew they were quickly running out of time. With only steps to go, Leo threw herself forward and caught the hatch to the command deck. Once inside, it was instantly apparent that their situation was far from improving.

  By the intense dialogue running between the operators, still remaining steadfast at their stations, some measure of control had been returned to their stations. Several shouts erupted, stemming from the loss of the latest engine while others still attempted to raise the fleet. For all the work and sacrifice on behalf of the crew, the effort had likely been for naught.

  The captain looked back and caught her eye as he did what he could to manage the situation. “Liaison, what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice quivering. “We’ve only got one engine left and we’re going down. Get off of this ship!”

  Leo heard the command but stood transfixed, attempting to process what needed to be done. The delay was too much for the captain.

  “Dammit, go!” he ordered again, slapping her shoulder. “Get down to the landing bay and get on a shuttle! We’ve got maybe fifteen minutes before we hit the ground.”

  The hit was enough to jog her mind. Leo nodded, turned, and broke into a sprint toward their hangar. Her ship was destroyed, of course, but there were others around; she had seen them when the XO had escorted her around while scavenging weapons.

  Her heart pounded above the din around her: the smoke, the sirens, the distant shouts of the crew. All was dust against the fire in which the OSIRIS had fed them. She tracked quickly up the stairwell and the last short distance between her and the bay was clear. There was nothing standing between her and escape. Leo rounded the corner, through the door to the bay, and found it empty.

  She stared out, watching as the last transport slipped into the void beyond, assuming another would be waiting but saw the deck was clear. Hope held as she scanned the empty space, refusing to allow despair to take hold, but still it pressed in to crush her spirit.

  With each passing moment, it increased its hold as her mind shifted from thoughts of rescue and safety, back to panic and death. What other options remained available? Leo’s head spun as she stumbled to the deck. The captain would be no help and most of the stations were likely already evacuated if the OSIRIS had lifted their lockdown.

  Her eyes landed on the twisted remains of her destroyer. There wasn’t much left of the ship as most of the paneling had been removed to dig out the cannons and the frame was hopeles
sly twisted out of shape. Would the radio still work? Leo’s mind asked itself, and the thought was enough for her to investigate. Scaling the ramp of the closest wing, she cleared the fuselage and dropped through the forward canopy already evacuated by the first responders upon their landing.

  Inside, the light was dim, but Leo could tell the pilot hadn’t fared well upon their arrival. Tears in the retaining straps along with smears of blood along every surface were a harsh reminder of the flight from the surface. Pushing their adventures aside, she spied the emergency radio on the lower panel and activated the transponder. A set of lights came to life across the front panel, culminating in a solid green indicator that the battery was good, the system had survived and was successfully broadcasting. Leo breathed a heavy sigh of relief and scanned down the panel for anything else which she could put to use.

  ***

  Warner faced down the lieutenant, after taking up his place beside him. “What did you say?” he asked. “Something crazy just came out of your mouth.”

  Mercer’s voice rose with building urgency. “There’s a downed destroyer on the nearest battleship and it’s broadcasting an active distress call. I recognize the voice,” he repeated himself, leaning over the communications officer’s station.

  “Well, tell them they’ve pretty much fucked themselves to hades,” the commander replied. “That thing’s in a fast decaying orbit without power.”

  He heard Leo’s voice come through again on the emergency channel. Blood surged through his heart at the thought. “Tell them I’m coming. Release my transport and I’ll pick up as many as I can.”

  The communication officer looked between the lieutenant and Commander Warner. “Sir?”

  “I can’t give you any support. That ship has maybe ten minutes until it postholes into the bad side of Avalon. Don’t…”

  Mercer slammed his hand down over the operator’s fist on the radio’s transmit button. “Leo! Cap’n! It’s Mercer! Get on the landing deck with everyone you can muster. I’m on my way!” he turned to the commander. “You gonna stop me?”

  Warner scanned across the younger officer’s face, showing a familiar indelible determination. “Do what you think’s right,” he replied. “We’ve got things under control here.”

  The lieutenant had already turned his head as he sprinted off the bridge, reenergized with a newfound purpose. He cleared the low set of stairs, hitting the ground hard but not enough to dull his momentum.

  Fumbling with his radio, he shouted out to the transport crew which with any luck was still waiting for orders. “Ready for launch!” he called ahead, nearly incoherently against the pounding in his chest. “Go for the downed ship!”

  He didn’t stop for a response but saw the transport’s engines idling as he rounded the final corner into the landing bay. Standing alone on the ramp was their crew chief, visibly perplexed but experienced enough to cycle the airlock as Mercer passed and stumbled on the corrugated loading platform.

  “Orders, sir?” he asked.

  “Get us moving! The captain’s ship is going down and we’re gonna pick them up before they crash,” the lieutenant stammered, leaving the chief and expeditiously clawing his way forward toward the flight deck as they accelerated into space.

  Mercer caught sight of their pilot through the door, illuminated at once by the dull gray of the battleship, the darkness of space, and very quickly by the shimmering disc of Avalon as they pitched downward. His head pulsed from the sharp turn as he held on tight to the airlock frame.

  “What are we looking for?” the pilot asked again, his concentration consumed as much by the swirling tide of battle outside as their impromptu mission.

  “A co-located emergency beacon from a destroyer and a battleship in a fast-decaying orbit heading northwest.”

  “On it,” the pilot acknowledged as they streaked downward through the every-growing formation of mismatched defenders facing off against their overwhelming opposition. They swung hard to the side to avoid the nearest fleet battleship that lined up for another attack. It paid their miniscule vessel no mind as they rocketed past and down toward the planet below. Clearing the formation, the pilot righted their ship and followed the lieutenant’s command. “I think that’s it,” he replied, only moments later.

  Mercer followed the gesture and caught sight of a dense streak of black smoke that had been smeared across the air before them. Although the nearest, and likely oldest extent of the trail had already begun to dissipate, it was clearly following the expected path away from the battle. “That’s got to be it,” he remarked, even as he was unable to catch sight of the source in the distance.

  The miniscule shuttle picked upspeed as their descent continued, slicing closer to the darkened trail. Quickly they gained on the battleship as it came into view beyond the canopy.

  “You really want to touch down on that?” the pilot asked rhetorically as he took in the multitude of fires weaving their ways across its skin.

  Mercer nodded without a hint of fear. “Yes. If there are survivors, we need to get as many as we can.”

  “Suit yourself,” the response came flatly as they approached the careening vessel.

  The doors of the landing bay remained open, comprising a wide and easy target if not for the fiery tumble through the atmosphere. The pilot took a chance, gunning their engines in a last-moment burst of speed to clear the distance and slide into the diminished safety of the hangar.

  The deck was clear, all the way to the forward wall, where a deconstructed destroyer rested, surrounded by a mob of crewmembers. Mercer bounded for the ramp while they spun about, the pilot dropping them only a few yards away from the wreck.

  His eyes caught Leo immediately, leaning heavy on a landing strut, before she stumbled toward him. “You’re cutting it close!” she exclaimed. “Or you’re out of your damned mind.”

  Mercer smiled. “That’s the best compliment of my work I’ve heard in ages. Come on, we’re taking everyone we can hold.”

  “Hurry. We’ve got under four minutes to impact,” Leo replied, waving the remnants of the trapped crew onward over the roaring din of both the surrounding fires and constant blaring sirens.

  The lieutenant watched the group file aboard, making note of the number. It was more than he had anticipated and they quickly swamped the cargo hold, filling the full space back to the hatch.

  “Is that it?” he asked as the last man hit the ramp and stopped just inside.

  “Yes,” Leo confirmed and jumped up beside him. “Come on.”

  Mercer silently studied the geometry of the bay. “I’m not going,” he admitted.

  The shock behind Leo’s eyes turned instantly to terror. “What?” What do you mean?” she shouted, reaching out to him as he stood alone on the ramp.

  “We’re overloaded and my armor weighs as much as five people. We’re out of time,” he said and pushed Leo back behind the hatch. “I’ll be alright,” he added as the metal door swung shut, sealing them apart.

  The captain pounded on the glass, shouting his way as he leapt free of the ramp. “We’re clear, go for takeoff,” Mercer ordered the pilot and watched the ship drift off down the ramp.

  For the first time in years, he felt sorrow drift into his eyes, mirrored in Leo’s beyond the window. He had known sacrifices all too well, usually not his own, but then again he had a mountain of debts to repay. His eyes remained locked on his friend until the ramp cut them apart and the shuttle roared free of the hangar.

  He had maybe two minutes until they’d hit the ground. Mercer looked about and shuffled toward the crumpled destroyer. Maybe there would have been time to drop the armor… maybe a pallet or two and make room for him. He could have had another life beyond the service of the OSIRIS. His thoughts, he convinced himself, were no different than of any dead man.

  The flight deck was destroyed, but the pilot’s seat, nearly shorn off at the base, remained mostly upright so Mercer dropped into it, content to meet his end with all the dignity
of a thousand others on the ground and in the sky that day. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he asked the all-seeing machine as if it could hear him. “I hope you have a hell to go to.”

  The wide canopy above his head had been shattered, providing no solace from the noise of the failing deck. Taking on the sensation of being in a ruined parapet overlooking a failed siege, Mercer reclined back and pulled his hands behind his head, instantly feeling the curved, metallic frame of the seat. Its design was familiar. The lieutenant’s mind instantly ceased its dirges; the chair had an ejection stage.

  He looked about and felt his heart stop dead. The red handle was still sealed in place and only the corner of one bracket remained holding it to the floor. With a final burst of energy, he planted his feet against the console, dove backward, and sheared the last bit of the remaining metal flange away. The seat tumbled back and Mercer wheeled about.

  Pulling it up, the lieutenant heaved it through the empty canopy beside him and let the assembly clatter to the deck before diving out after it. He reached for the harness with one hand, sure there was no time to strap in, and with the other pulled the release.

  The charge ignited, instantly propelling Mercer down the hangar floor under relentless acceleration like a dedicated booster rocket strapped to a test track. His arms seized as he gripped the frame, watching as the hangar’s entrance approached.

  It swept by in a blink and left him free-floating in the sky as the battleship pulled away below. Mercer caught a final glimpse of the sleek, proud ship as it dove headlong into its grave seconds later. It erupted in a mountain of fire and smoke that blocked out every light in the sky before being extinguished beneath a following cloud of darkened ash and smoke.

  Another warning blared from the seat as the accelerometer within sensed the growing field of gravity as it overpowered the emergency rocket. Mercer held on tighter as another stage exploded away from the seat’s frame, deploying a wide parachute above him. He tumbled down beneath the growing canopy as if on the end of a whip. The slack ended and snapped the chair back, wrenching Mercer lower in the seat but failing to kick him free.